


Unison

by DistortedDaytime



Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: Caretaking, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistortedDaytime/pseuds/DistortedDaytime
Summary: They did what everyone does at All-Star Weekend: they met, they laughed, they hooked up. Their story was supposed to end there, until a text and a blurry black-and-white photo change Pekka's life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hooooo talk about a cracky idea growing legs and going places you never expect...one joke text in March after learning Pekka's a twin and remembering that Hilary was in fact at ASW in Nashville, and 20,000-odd words later here we are! A bit hand-wavey with time, because it's fiction and I can. If you've clicked on this, thank you. It's been a labor of love (no pun intended..seriously) and this story is very close to my heart. I hope you enjoy it.

The day Pekka's life changes forever starts with a text message. His phone vibrates from its normal place on the nightstand; he thinks about ignoring it until after a shower but it buzzes again, somehow more insistent. With a mild huff Pekka picks it up, swipes his thumb across the screen when he sees Hilary's name, and promptly drops the phone.

With shaking hands he picks it up, half convinced he's hallucinating the black and white image on the screen. Pekka's not an expert, but he knows a sonogram when he sees one, except something is...off. One round shape, that's normal, the second round shape-

He barely reaches the bathroom before he's doubled over the toilet vomiting up the protein shake and coffee he had for breakfast.

*

_January 31st, 2016_

"Hey, toss me my pants?"

Pekka grins, stretches, and reaches down to grab Hilary's jeans from their heap next to his side of the bed. "I don't know. I think we do okay when we're not wearing pants."

"Mmm. I'm not gonna argue with that, but, you know." Hilary makes a gimme gesture. "Obligations, schedules, keeping our agents happy, shit like that."

She's right, of course. All-Star Weekend in Nashville means Pekka has places to be, hands to shake, and appearances to keep up, but he's more than happy to stay in Hilary's bed and watch her get dressed. It's not intimate, not quite. It's also not at all unpleasant to watch her brush her hair and pick out clean clothes.

Eventually Pekka gets up to ferret around for his own shirt and jeans. They move around each other with only a modicum of awkwardness, a jostle here, a kiss there, enough to keep any tension at bay. Pekka hands her a Gatorade without thinking, and she chugs half of it before handing the bottle back.

"You can finish that, if you want."

Pekka does, then stretches his long arms to the ceiling. They're both dressed. They've both moved towards the door. Now comes the shitty part.

"Well."

Hilary raises an eyebrow. "Well."

The silence stretches on. Neither of them is inclined to pretend this was anything more than a one-night thing; it may be a little awkward but it's genuine, and Pekka will take that over false promises any day.

"Is this the part where we act like we'll actually keep in touch?" Hilary asks, so deadpan it makes Pekka laugh.

"I think I'm supposed to say something first, about how you're a very nice person but-"

"But you just got out of a relationship and you're not looking for anything serious."

"A long relationship," Pekka corrects. "Something to make me look vulnerable and cover up that I sound like a douchebag."

Hilary grins sharply. "You're right. And then I say I'm not looking for anything either and stare off into the distance because I'm a strong independent woman who don't need no man. Cue the music, fade to black, and...scene!"

Laughing, Pekka applauds as Hilary takes a bow. There's no denying he enjoys her company, both their conversation last night and what came after. There's also no denying how pointless it would be to even think of getting attached when their lives kill any real potential before it starts. Still. It doesn't feel right to leave without being honest.

"If you lived in Nashville," he says, and leaves it at that.

"If you lived in Boston," says Hilary. She bites her lip and makes a face. "You know what? Fuck it. Give me your number."

Pekka rattles it off a little too quickly, relieved she had the sense to be brave for both of them and ask.

*

Minutes, hours, maybe days later, the heaving stops and Pekka drags himself up to rinse his mouth. He's pale and sweaty, cramped from the unforgiving tile floor, exhausted even though it's not even noon yet. Jesus fuck. This...okay. Okay. First things first. Right? Maybe. He’s not sure anymore.

His phone is still where he dropped it on his bed, lurking like a spectre. Stomach rolling, Pekka picks it up and taps 'call,' almost losing his nerve when she answers right away.

"Hilary?"

"Hi," she says in a small voice.

"Hi. I'm, I'm here, Hilary."

Pekka has no fucking idea what else to say, so he stays quiet and stays on the line. They'll have to talk later, talk and talk and talk until they're blue in the face, probably. Only the sound of Hilary's breathing keeps him tethered; her exhales are as shaky as his own and he clings to it.


	2. Chapter 2

Shea's a good friend. He doesn't ask Pekka any questions until they're through security and waiting to catch their flight to Boston.

"Jesus, how did this happen?" Shea gives him a long look, the wheels in his mind turning until his eye widen and he says, "All-Star Weekend. She was in Nashville."

Pekka wants to laugh, but once he starts there's no guarantee he'll be able to stop. "PR introduced us before the skills competition. We went out for drinks afterwards. That's why I wasn't..."

"That's why you weren't out with the rest of us," Shea finishes, and Pekka nods.

"We hit it off, and it just happened."

He doesn't mention the fire in Hilary's eyes as she laughed, the wicked curve of her smile when she joked about scoring on him, how good it felt to let his guard down and relax.

"Pekka..." Shea looks uncomfortable. "Did you use protection?"

" _En tiedä_." I don't know.

"What?"

"We were a little drunk. I don't remember."

Once they got back to Hilary’s hotel Pekka's memory shifted from instances to sensations. He remembers roving callused hands, kisses flavored with liquor one minute and salty skin the next, his back hitting a mattress, velvet-smooth heat. If condoms were involved at any point, he has no recollection of it. Pekka puts his face in his hands.

"Are you sure it's-"

"They," Pekka interrupts. "It's- they’re twins."

Shea lets out a long, slow breath. "Holy- okay. Are you sure they're...look, there's no delicate way to ask, but are you sure they're yours?"

"She has no reason to lie about it."

"I'm not saying she's lying. Just...was there someone else right before, or right after?"

"No."

"Pekka," Shea starts, but Pekka cuts him off.

"I already...we already went through that. She hasn't been with anybody else."

Not for the first time Pekka's grateful his mask hides so much of his face. In a hoodie, ball cap, and jeans he could be any other tall thin man, whereas Shea attracts more than one 'it can't really be him' double-take. Neither of them traveled with more than a carry-on so they go straight to pick up their rental; Pekka types Hilary's address into his GPS and stares out the window, letting the grey Massachusetts spring pass him by.

_Omw now._

_k_

Boston is nothing new, but the side streets are. Shea doesn't make conversation besides swearing at the traffic and eventually he stops in front of Hilary's building.

"You wanna get out while I park, or do you need company?"

Bless Shea for sounding 100% neutral either way. Pekka doesn't have a good answer but someone honks behind them and it spurs him into movement.

"I'll be fine. It's apartment 3C, whenever you get inside."

Shea claps his arm and practically pushes him out of the car. Pekka watches him go. There's no bullet to bite, no bud to nip, no silly phrase to help quell the nausea and nerves that have been his near-constant companion since he got Hilary's text. He can do this, be the man his grandfather would be proud of, or he can run away.

Later, he swears someone else presses the buzzer and tells the unfamiliar voice who he is. Someone else's legs carry him through the door and up three flights of stairs. It's not his hand that knocks on the door in tremulous staccato.

The woman on the other side of the door gives him a solemn, considering look. "I wasn't sure you'd show up," she says after a moment.

"Neither was I," Pekka answers a little too honestly. "Can I come in?"

Something like a smile flickers across her face and she steps aside to let him in. Hilary's on the couch in the small living room, bracketed on either side by her teammates. It's clear at a glance how much they care about her; they turn to Pekka with a mixed bag of expressions, some neutral, some hard. He swallows and meets Hilary’s anxious eyes.

"Hi. How are you?"

"She's only horked twice today," deadpans the woman who let Pekka into the apartment, and Hilary snorts.

"Thanks, Brittany."

Pekka looks around for a place to sit. None of Hilary's teammates move to give up their seats and he won't ask them to. Okay. Time to improvise. That coffee table looks straight out of an IKEA flatpack, but it can hold his weight. Probably.

Hilary raises an eyebrow when Pekka finds a seat on the corner of the coffee table. "That can't be comfortable."

"I'll manage."

It's starting to hit him, finally. Not with the speed of a plummeting anvil, but slow and steady as the new reality finds a place on his shoulders and settles in. Conscious he's being watched, Pekka takes a long look at Hilary. There's no sign of the pregnancy yet; her stomach is hidden under a baggy t-shirt and her pale cheeks show none of the glow he's heard so much about.

The words come out of his mouth before Pekka can stop them. "So what do we do?"

"We?” asks the woman on Hilary's left. She's not trying to hide the skepticism in her tone. Pekka doesn't blame her.

"Yes. We. Us. Because I'm..." He swallows around a tight throat. "Whatever you decide, about. Keeping them, or not, I, um. I'm here."

The same woman asks, "So you're telling her to get an abortion?" in an acidic tone. "That's nice of you."

Pekka bristles. " _Don't._ Don’t do that. Don't put words in my mouth," he snaps, before cursing in Finnish and rubbing his hands over his face. He forces himself to meet her furious eyes and try again.

"That's not what I said."

"Guys," says Hilary softly. She looks small and scared, a far cry from the woman Pekka remembers. "Maybe run to DD and get me a longjohn?"

The women hold a brief nonverbal conversation before getting up to pull on their coats. "Call us if you need anything," says Brittany. "We'll be back soon."

The door closes behind them, almost as loud as Pekka's heartbeat. He rubs his hands over his face again. Still no epiphany. Shit.

"Can we start over, please?"

Hilary nods. "Sorry about...well, no, I'm not sorry about them being here. I am sorry for Kacey being a dick, though, so yeah. Let's start over."

"Brittany said you've thrown up twice today? Has the morning sickness been bad?"

"Morning sickness is a crappy name. It's more like morning, afternoon, and Tuesdays after business hours sickness, and yeah, it sucks."

"I'm sorry," answers Pekka, and touches her knee. "I'll call my mom and ask what she used for it when she was pregnant with me and my twin sister, see if it helps."

"Call your..." Hilary exhales a long breath. "You told your parents?"

"Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first."

She chuckles mirthlessly. "It'd help if we knew what to say to each other."

"What your friend said...Kacey? What Kacey said...that's not what I meant." Pekka looks down and wishes desperately for something to keep his hands busy. "I don't want that," he admits.

Hilary clutches a pillow to her stomach and curls up around it. She doesn't tell him to stop or be quiet, so Pekka keeps going.

"It's your choice. Maybe it's not fair of me to say that, I don't know, but that's how I feel. If it's not the right time for you I understand. I won't hold it against you if you decide not to have them, I mean, one would be enough, but twins is a lot and it's your body. I know it's half my fault. Not my- fuck, that's the wrong word, but you know what I mean and of course I'll pay for everything you need. I've got more than enough money and I've been good with it so we'll have a good life, and I'll be as involved as you'll let me because I always wanted to be a dad and, and...fucking hell I'm rambling now please say something to make me-"

"Pekka. Shut up," Hilary tells the pillow in her lap. She looks up, brown eyes wary. “You really want to do this?”

Heart in his throat, Pekka nods.

"This wasn't supposed to happen. I always thought this was a 'yeah, sure, someday' thing. Something I did after hockey, you know?"

Pekka doesn't move, too watery and nauseous to do anything but stare at the pillow in Hilary's hands. There's an empty bag next to the couch; if he throws up he can get that far and not make too much of a-

"It's..." Hilary shakes her head and lets out a strained laugh. "Fuck me, you ever have that thing where...you're so sure of exactly what you want, right up ‘til the day it totally changes?"

"You mean, like two days ago when I got your text?"

She uncurls just a little and looks at him. “Yeah, just like that, I guess. It's a lot. Just. So much. It'd be a lot even if we didn't do what we do. I get you're scared. I am, too, and that's fine, it's normal, but. I want to. I want them.”

Pekka huffs out a breath that's half nervous laughter, half relief. Holy shit. Holy. Shit. “Hilary...can I…” He gestures to the space on the couch. “Can I hold you? Please?”

She nods once and scoots over to let him sit down, waiting until Pekka puts his arm up before moving in close. At first she's tense against his side, but when Hilary relaxes Pekka does, too. He does the math in his head: from All-Star Weekend to now, that's a little over six weeks.

"Eight."

Shit, he must've been thinking out loud. "Hm?"

"Eight weeks," says Hilary. "My doctor said you add two."

Pekka kisses her forehead and leans back. "Eight weeks. Okay."

He closes his eyes and lets himself drift a little. Having a set decision abates his nausea somewhat; Pekka isn't sure the shock will ever wear off but being at Hilary's side, with a mutual agreement...it's something. More than they had half an hour ago.

He looks up only when he hears approaching voices. The door opens and Hilary's teammates troop back in with Dunkin' Donuts bags and a bemused Shea behind them, holding a tiny iced coffee. They all stop to take in Hilary curled up against Pekka's side; the women look relieved and happy while Shea cracks the first smile Pekka has seen since they left Nashville.

"I'm a paying DD customer, so we've got a couple of hours before they tow me. Here." Shea hands Hilary a paper bag. "Zoe said you wanted longjohns."

"Thanks. You can stay."

Pekka's mouth twitches but Shea just shrugs and crams himself into one of the two-small chairs Brittany brings from the kitchen. Hilary rips into her donuts like she hasn't eaten in days while the other women eat and chat; their conversation washes over him, not normal, but familiar. It’s a start.

*

To Pekka's relief their return isn't met with any fanfare. They're a tight-knit group; life in the room and on the road doesn't leave a lot of room for secrets, but everyone's got personal shit they don't bring to the rink and the guys respect that. Even Hutts just elbows him, says "Glad you're back, man," and starts warming up like nothing has changed.

Lavy does hold him back after practice, though, quiet for a moment, searching his face.

"Everything go all right in Boston?"

Pekka licks his lips and taste sweat. "I think so. She and the little ones are healthy, that's the most important thing."

"Glad to hear it. Oh, and Peks?"

"Yes, coach?"

Lavy taps his pads and smiles warmly. "Congratulations."

*

It gets easier after that. Somehow, in spite of everything happening without anything being settled, it gets easier. On regular days it goes wake up, eat breakfast, call Hilary, go to practice, go about his business, maybe text Hilary before bed. On game days it goes wake up, eat breakfast, go to morning skate, call Hilary, take his nap, go to the arena, try to win, FaceTime Hilary before he falls asleep.

They talk about the little ones here and there, but mostly they talk about the ins and outs of their day-to-day lives. Pekka learns Hilary likes bad puns and being outside, and that her selfie skills put all of the Preds to shame. He learns the guaranteed ways make her laugh, and how much he likes the sound.


	3. Chapter 3

_ ur in boston 2morro rite? _

Pekka's gotten more than used to Hilary's texting style over the past few months.  _ y. y? _

_ need ur dick _

_ wait what? _

His phone rings a second later. "I need to use your dick," says Hilary without so much as a hello. 

"Wait, what?" Pekka's repeating himself now. That seems to happen a lot these days.

"Look, I'm horny as fuck, okay, and I can't exactly pick up like this. Bri keeps telling me I'm gonna blow a circuit in the apartment if I don't get a vibe with batteries."

That...is a mental image if Pekka's ever had one. "Check online? I'm sure you can find a good one."

"Not the point!" 

"No, I guess not." 

"Technically, this is half your fault," Hilary continues. "Takes two to tango, so you need to get off your Finnish ass-"

"You like my Finnish ass."

"Exactly! So what're you complaining about?"

Pekka tries to think logically about this, but it's hard when the future mother of his child- children, fucking hell, is telling him just what she wants.

"Are you sure this won't...I don't know. Make things more complicated?"

Hilary laughs. "What are you going to do, knock me up with triplets? Can't get me more pregnant than I already am."

*

The first thing Briana "Call her Bri" Decker says when she opens the apartment door is, "Oh, thank god," followed immediately by, "Hurry up. Go. Make America proud."

Pekka stares at her. "Wait, what?"

"Make Finland proud, whatever. I don't care. Just. Sex. Have it."

"I-"

"Have fun!" says Briana loudly, and claps him on the shoulder, yelling, "Knighter! Your baby daddy's here!"

Hilary comes out of the bedroom and Briana shoves him towards her. "Sock on the doorknob and I'm out."

"Bye, Bri!" says Hilary. She glances at Pekka, predatory, and yanks him closer, kissing him without so much as a preamble. 

Well. Okay then.

*

Afterwards, once the sweat starts to cool and Pekka can actually breathe again, Hilary pushes him off of her with a grunt.

"Fuck, I needed that. A rubber dick just isn't the same."

Pekka huffs out a laugh and kicks his jeans all the way off. "Feel better?"

"Oh my god. Round one, points to Pekka."

They lie in silence for a while, then he plucks at her t-shirt. Her breasts look bigger than he remembers, but he was drunk, so his memories are a little foggy. Plus, if she's showing already...

"Take this off? I want to. I mean. Can I see?"

For the first time uncertainty flashes in Hilary's eyes and her fingers still on the worn Badgers logo. Pekka covers her hand with his, but makes no move to take her shirt off.

"Please, Hilary?"

She searches his face for a moment. Pekka doesn't know what she's looking for, but she seems to find it and she pulls her shirt off with a flourish, brown hair spilling out of its ponytail.

He wasn't ready. Fuck, he wasn't ready for the roundness blossoming across her stomach, her muscles and the most gorgeous curves he's ever seen, her breasts heavy as ripe fruit. It punches the breath right out of him. 

"Is this the part where you start talking to my stomach in Finnish and I have to nod along like I can understand you?" Hilary asks, her smile not quite masking the hesitance in her eyes.

"No. That's later." Pekka reaches out with reverent hands. "Right now I just want to..."

He moves carefully down her body and eases her legs apart. "I want to," Pekka repeats, unable to stop touching her skin, the slick places on her inner thighs where their wetness is mingled. "Need to."

She's honey on his tongue. Hilary isn't shy about using his hair like reins to guide his mouth just where she wants it and Pekka's delighted to be coached. He does just what she asks and keeps going, determined to make her voice pitch higher and her thighs shake as she comes apart piece by piece around him.

"Oh, fuck, _Pekka-_ "

Her voice breaks on his name. Pekka coaxes her through it, gentling his motions to keep her from getting oversensitive. He's fully hard again but he ignores it, he won't let up, not until Hilary's wrung out.

"How many times do you think can you come?" he muses, and brushes the pad of his thumb over her clit, just enough to make her whine and swear at him. 

Hilary yanks on his hair. "Oh my god, are you really gonna be smug when your head's between my legs?" She squeezes her thighs around him. "I'll crush you like a watermelon if you stop."

Fuck, what a way to die. "Not stopping," Pekka promises, and keeps going.

*

Later, after Hilary shoves Pekka on his back and rides him until he sees stars, he spoons up close behind her and reaches for her stomach to feel the twins. There's a word for this somewhere, maybe in Finnish, maybe in English, something to cover awe, wonder, and all-encompassing fear. 

"Hi, little ones," he says in soft Finnish, unsure if Hilary is still awake. "Hi, my little ones. Isi's here. Your Isi is here."

Pekka keeps his hand there long after he runs out of words, humming and singing the lullabies he learned as a small boy. He starts when Hilary's hand covers his. "Oh. I thought you were asleep."

"Nope." She moves a little closer. "Are you scared?"

Pekka doesn't mean to laugh, but he can't help it. "What kind of question...of course I am."

Hilary nods, her fingers tightening around his. "Me too."

*

Leaving her to sneak back into the hotel early the next morning is much harder than Pekka anticipated. He doesn't want to miss a single second; he wants to stay with Hilary and be- he doesn't know what they are, exactly, but he wants to support her in any way he can.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll keep you in the loop, now get out of here before you get benched," she chides, but she doesn't let go of his hips or move to close the door. "Go make Rask break some more milk crates."

Pekka snorts and brushes the hair back from her face. "I'm going."

"So go!"

Neither of them move. "Come to Nashville," Pekka says softly, when the silence gets to be too much. "When you’re done celebrating the Isobel Cup, come for a little while. As long as you want."

Hilary laughs, just a touch rueful. "I sort of hate you for making it sound so easy."

"It's not, I know it's not. Just." Pekka gestures helplessly, searching for the right words. "I want to be there for you."

"You don't- you don't _owe_ me-"

"No, not because I think- just. Please? I've never done this before. I want to do it right."

Hilary considers him again, with that same inscrutable look she wore last night. "I'll think about it. Now get out," she says, smiling a little. "Text me later?"

"I will." Pekka kisses her goodbye, then crouches down to kiss her stomach. "Bye, little ones. I'll miss you."

"Oh my god, you _sap._ "

*

True to his word, Pekka goes to text Hilary once they're out of TD Gardens, only to find a message waiting for him, no words, just a simple screenshot of a purchased plane ticket.

He smiles the whole way home.


	4. Chapter 4

"You know your house is ridiculous, right?" says Hilary before she even gets in the door. "No, you know what, this is obscene. Seriously, Pekka, I'm getting a design boner just looking at this."

“Thank you? I think?" 

It's not until Hilary shoots him an amused look and says, "So, you gonna invite me in?" that Pekka snaps out of his reverie and remembers his manners.

"Sorry, sorry, please, come inside," he says, taking her bags and moving out of the doorway. "Sorry. Just. Um."

"Happy to see me?" Hilary asks archly. 

"Yes, actually."

Pekka swears her ears turn a little pink.

*

After getting her set up in one of the guest rooms and giving an abbreviated tour of the house, Pekka winds up back downstairs, in front of the refrigerator with Hilary peering around him.

"Um, don't take this the wrong way, Peks, but what the fuck is that?" she asks, pointing to a plastic-wrapped casserole dish. "It looks like-"

“ _Mämmi_ , rye and molasses pudding for Easter, and yes, it does look like actual shit, I know."

“You said it, not me," says Hilary with a crooked grin. "Ohhh, are those bell peppers?"

He hands her the bag of three. "I got the multi-colored ones. There are carrot sticks and Nutella to go with it, if you're still craving those too.”

"Best," Hilary sing-songs, and goes right for the crisper.

*

He can't sleep that night. Pekka is determined to give Hilary her space and not influence any decision she doesn't want his input on, but it feels fundamentally wrong to have her so close yet so far away. His bed is big enough for two. Three. No, four. Oh, god-

The bedroom door creaks open, a faint strip of light paints its way across the hardwood.

Pekka holds his breath as Hilary pads over to the other side of the bed, terrified to speak in case he says something wrong and shatters the quiet spell they're under. Instead he lifts the covers and nudges a pillow in her direction.

"Thanks," Hilary whispers, moving into his arms.

Pekka kisses her hair and nods, content to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.

*

It's a little unnerving how easily Hilary fits into Pekka's routine. After the first night she gives up all pretense of using the guest room and it seems to soothe her as much as it soothes him. Pekka wants to be there as much as possible, be her first point of contact if she or the little ones need anything. More than that, though, he wants Hilary close, for reasons he's not quite ready to think about.

"You know we did this all backwards, right?" she asks one night, sprawled out on the couch with her feet in his lap. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby, well, babies, in our case- hey, don't stop rubbing!"

Laughing, Pekka resumes massaging her feet. "We did this about as wrong as you can, I think. We're not married, we're not-"

He stops, unable to finish the sentence. They're not in love. Are they? Fuck. Oh, fuck. Pekka's chest goes tight, his heart feels like it's going as fast as one of Shea's slapshots, the room is too small, suddenly, he can't stay here, can't-

"I have to go," he mumbles in Finnish, and gets off the couch, heedless of Hilary's protests.

"Hey, where're you going? You promised to rub my back too!"

Pekka ignores her. His phone's in his pocket and his keys have gotta be around here somewhere...

"Hold on a sec. Was it something I said? Pekka? _Pekka!_ "

He lets the slamming garage door answer for him.

*

He drives until the suburban lights fade into naked sky and the stars shine undiluted. Pekka drives, half in silence, half screaming along with the loudest music on his iPod, driving until his throat hurts and his eyes burn from staring at passing headlights.

Exhausted, he drives to Shea's on impulse. Dug and Rod start barking before Pekka even gets up the driveway, then the front door opens and Shea’s squinting out into the darkness, hair sticking out in all directions.

“Peks? What the- no, you know what, never mind. C’mon.”

Pekka follows him into the house and flops down on one of Shea's oversized couches, closes his eyes, tries not to remember the look on Hilary's face when he left. Shea leaves him alone but Dug has other plans; he shoves his head into Pekka's lap and woofs softly, demanding attention. At least that hasn't changed.

He pats Dug until he feels calm enough to ask, "You're not going to yell at me?"

Shea shrugs. "Do I need to?"

"No." Pekka looks down. "Maybe. I don't know. I don't...know anything, anymore, it feels like."

"Hey, you're about to be a dad, and you're scared shitless. That's normal. God, you remember how freaked out I was before Beckett was born."

"Yeah but you had Bailey," says Pekka. "You were already- you know."

"Uh, no, I don't."

Fuck. _Fuck_. Pekka buries his hands in his hair. The air's getting tight again. "You loved- love her. You wanted this, and I do too, just. Not like- "

He breaks off and tries to count his breathing while Shea rubs his back. In, one, out, two, in, one...

"I want to be a dad. And, and, twins, Shea! My little ones get to have what Anna and I have, but what do I tell them when they ask how Isi feels about Äiti when I don't even know how I feel?"

Shea hums. "I don't know, Peks. But you don't have to know that right now, either."

"But-"

"Hey, no buts. Trust me on this one. You can't focus on everything you don't know about what it's gonna be like once the kids get here otherwise you'll drive yourself fuckin' nuts. There's time, Pekka."

He looks up at Shea. They've been friends a long time, teammates even longer. Shea doesn't lie to him, or hide inconvenient truths. 

"Besides," Shea continues, "you and Hilary are already way ahead of a lot of people in this situation. You enjoy each other's company, you're on the same page about having the kids, you're not screaming at each other about custody deals."

"We like each other," says Pekka.

"Exactly. And you'll both do what's right for your family, because it is a family. Maybe not traditional, maybe not what either of you had in mind, but still good. You guys got this, eh?"

Pekka leans against Shea, rests against him for a moment and lets the words sink in.

"You think so?"

"You wouldn't be freaked out if you didn't care."

"No, I guess not," says Pekka. "I should-"

Shea gets to his feet and offers him a hand up. "Yeah. Just remember...one day at a time."

*

The house is silent when Pekka finally gets home; the lights are off as he pads quietly through the house and up to his room. His bed is empty. 

Pekka stands in front of Hilary's closed door, debating. He doesn't want to wake her if she's already asleep; she needs her rest and a closed door is a good mood barometer, but the last thing he wants is for a disagreement to fester into a total mess. Ignoring his heart hammering in his chest, Pekka knocks gently.

"Hilary? Are you awake?"

"I'm up," says a soft voice, "but I'm not moving."

Pekka slips inside and closes the door behind him before going to sit on the edge of the bed. "I. There's probably something nice to say, but I don't know what it is."

"How about, 'Hilary, I fucked up and I'm sorry?'"

He winces. "That's a good start. Hilary, I fucked up and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Um. Left like that."

"Are you done fucking up?"

"For today. I can't promise I'm done for good, but I'll try. To do better. And be better."

Hilary sniffs, loudly. Pekka reaches for her without thinking; he jerks a little when their hands meet but he holds on and doesn't comment that she's clinging to him just as tightly.

"I'm sorry," Pekka whispers, in Finnish before switching back to English. "I shouldn't have left you. I'm sorry."

Hilary sniffs again, asking in a watery voice, "What happened? You were fine, Peks, then all of a sudden...you weren't. Was it something I. You know. Said?"

"Yes. Maybe. No. Well, not really. I know, that's so helpful. No, you said-"

Communication, Pekka reminds himself. Openness and honesty. Her life is joined to his now. He owes it to both of them to give it his all.

"You said we're not in love."

"Oh."

Hilary hums and turns to look at him. Pekka tucks an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

“Do you remember...the morning after, when we said I just got out of a relationship?”

“We were _joking._ ” Hilary’s eyes widen. “Oh my god. Please tell me that was a joke, not a rebound, How Pekka Got His Groove Back moment.”

“No, no, it wasn’t. It’s just…I was with someone for a long time. Almost ten years. We broke up last summer, called off the wedding plans, broke up like _adults…_ ”

Pekka stops himself when the bitterness creeps into his tone. That part of his life is over; he doesn't want it back, not anymore, but watching one of the most stable things in his life disintegrate had...oh god, it had hurt like an absolute motherfucker.

“I thought we'd get married...we planned to get married, have children, and be a normal Finnish family, you know?”

"Living the dream," Hilary answers. "Knocking up an American girl you just met wasn't in the plan.”

That’s...true. Harsh, but true.

“It's not like taking a year off in the middle of my prime to have twins with a guy I fucked one night was on my schedule either,” she continues.

Pekka winces. She's right. "I know.”

"Okay, if we’re gonna get heavy, can we at least get heavy and cuddle me at the same time?"

She yanks him down and Pekka goes willingly, spooning up behind her and putting his hand in its normal spot over the little ones.

"It's okay if you don't love me," says Hilary after a moment. "I don't know if I love you either, or if it’s some stupid nesting instinct that makes me feel better whenever you’re around.”

She sniffs again, shaking a little. "You get to walk away any time you want. You don't have to change your workouts, sit on the sidelines, or worry you're doing the wrong thing for your babies while letting the whole team down. Your body's not changing every day, your hormones aren't making you cry when there are too many commercials on Law & Order. You don't know what this feels like, Pekka! You get to be scared, that's fine, I am too, but you don't get to be selfish. Not if you want this...whatever it is...to work."

He nods and holds her tighter. “I know. I’m sorry, Hilary.”

“Okay then,” says Hilary with a huff, and turns around to tuck her head under his chin. 

*

The playoffs wear him down to the bone. Between the games themselves and waking up in a different time zone what feels like every other day, Pekka's exhausted his capacity to feel exhausted. Even their precious day of rest before game seven in San Jose does nothing but remind them how tired they are, and then, before he can blink, it's over.

Pekka doesn't check his phone until they're about to land back in Nashville; he skips through the messages from friends and family without reading any of them, but there's a text from Hilary waiting for him:

_ u need me to find somewhere else to crash for a couple days? No hard feelings if u do, totes get losing sucks. _

The thing is, she does. She's got two silver medals that show just how much she understands. In spite of his sore body and heavy heart Pekka smiles down at the screen, brushing his fingers across the words.

_ no.  might b shitty company for a while, but stay. want you to. _

_ k. bbs and i r here. _

True to her word, Hilary's waiting when Pekka drags himself in the door. She pulls him into a wordless hug and he nestles in as close as he can, careful as always of her belly and its cargo. Pekka buries his face in her hair and closes his eyes.

"Hilary?"

"Yeah?"

He doesn't actually know what he wants to say, so Pekka takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to her shoulder. Hilary seems to understand, though; she rubs his back and says,

"Bed's made, if you wanna go collapse."

He nods, grateful, and lets her lead him upstairs. They get into bed; Pekka doesn't hesitate to spoon up tight behind Hilary, even closer than usual. His hand over the twins is an anchor, something to tether himself to until the storm of loss passes, and he clings to it without shame. His eyes drift shut; he's tired, so tired, but...

"We need to think of names."

She laughs. "Seriously? You wanna talk about this now?"

"It's better than thinking about other things. Should we have Rinne first, or Knight?"

"Hmm. I like Rinne-Knight, but I might change my mind in the morning." Hilary turns around in his arms and kisses the corner of his mouth. "Go to sleep, Pekka."

"But-"

She cuts him off with another kiss. "Tomorrow, okay? Now go to sleep."

*

Pekka wakes up only when the bed shifts. Grumbling, he reaches out for Hilary, only to get gently swatted away.

"It's okay. I'll be back in a sec."

“ _Ei, pysy kanssani_ ," he mutters, making unabashed grabby hands and getting soft laughter in return.

"I don't know what you said, but I've got a pair of babies sitting on my bladder, so you're just gonna have to deal for a minute."

Pekka huffs and flops back onto his side of the bed, drifting in a haze until the bed dips again and gentle fingers card through his hair. He's just awake enough to recognize the familiar curve of her body against his and the smell of her shampoo. Hilary maneuvers him back into position and he goes willingly, holding on tight until sleep takes him again.


	5. Chapter 5

The exact moment he falls in love with Hilary feels a lot like the first time they met at All-Star Weekend: unexpected, undeniable, and more than a little ridiculous.

Pekka goes into the kitchen to make a late cup of tea, only to stop in his tracks when he finds Hilary sitting on the floor surrounded by Fazer wrappers. A smear of chocolate paints her mouth; she's wearing one of his old Kärpät shirts and the swell of her belly is obvious through the worn grey fabric. She looks up at him with wide eyes, still chewing, and suddenly he knows it as clearly as he knows his own name.

Hilary's nervous look as she swallows jolts Pekka out of his head. "Good, isn't it?" he says, nodding to all the wrappers.

"Oh my god, why can't I stop eating this? I don't even like chocolate that much, but holy shit this is the best."

"That's because it's Finnish," says Pekka, and sits down next to her. "Did you find the stash behind the rice?"

"Uh, duh, and the emergency bar inside your protein powder."

Pekka laughs softly and puts his arm around Hilary's shoulders, pleased when she moves in closer. "I'll order more tonight. And some Swedish stuff too, so you can try it and compare."

"You're just trying to get me to like Finland so I'll come home with you for the summer," says Hilary.

"You...what? I thought you were going back to Idaho?"

Pekka's not recovered from the playoffs yet, not entirely. He's still drained from the exertion and the disappointment, the shock of seeing his bare face again after Hilary herded him into the bathroom and shaved the beard away.

She shrugs, not quite looking at him. "Yeah, I will. Thought I might do some traveling first though. Sweden's nice. Was thinking maybe..."

Heart in his throat, Pekka picks up the last piece of chocolate. "Maybe you come with me? Meet my family? Well. They're your family too, now, Anna and my parents and our cousins. Everyone's so excited for the little ones and I can show you around Kempele and Oulu, and-"

Hilary looks a little overwhelmed. Pekka forces himself to be quiet, but it's damn near impossible when he's so thrilled about the prospect of her in his space, his real space.

"How about we make a deal?" Hilary counters, eyeing the last of the chocolate. "Stop bogarting the good stuff and I'll think about it."

That's fair enough. Pekka breaks the piece in two, pops half into his mouth, and holds the other half out for Hilary, expecting her to take it. Instead she winks and eats it right out of his fingers. It makes perfect sense to kiss her.

Hilary sighs quietly, her breath warm against Pekka's mouth, and they stay like that for an instant before pulling back a fraction. Hilary's eyes drop to his lips and Pekka kisses her again. They've never kissed like this, for the closeness without any guaranteed prelude to sex; he takes his time, learning Hilary's mouth, what makes her sigh and press closer, the taste of home sweeter taken from her lips.

They shift and Pekka's arms come around her. Hilary wriggles into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing as close as her belly will let her, moaning when he rubs her back, her hands tight in his hair.

It builds in him, rising like so many of his life's small pleasures wrapped into one. The first sip of coffee in the morning, a sauna heated just right, things that Pekka associates with 'good' and 'home' and 'happy.' Hilary's now first on the list of things that mean Love, and instead of fighting it Pekka gives in.

"There are better places than the kitchen floor," he tells her between kisses.

Hilary hums and moves down to nibble his neck. "Mm? Like where?"

"Our bed?"

She pulls back and stares, the same expression she always wears when she's pondering something. "Are you asking me if it's ours, or telling me?"

"I...both? Can I say both?"

Laughing, Hilary drops her forehead onto his shoulder. "Pekka, I swear to god."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just. Hang on." She rolls back onto the floor and gives him an expectant shove. "Help me up?"

Pekka hurries to his feet and does as he's told, mindful as always of her belly, and pulls Hilary into his arms. The change in the air is palpable now; a new awareness of how deep their relationship could run, if he’s brave enough to dive that far.

*

Bed is better. Bed is much, much better. They trade warm lazy kisses for what feels like hours; Pekka rests with his back against the headboard with Hilary in his lap, her arms draped around his neck as his knuckles trace patterns over her legs.

It would be so easy to turn his hand over, skirt his fingers along the inside of her thigh and up under her shorts, but Pekka doesn't. Not yet. For tonight he's happy to pretend they have forever, so he keeps kissing her, his hands leaving Hilary's legs only to rub her belly instead. She's beautiful, so much more so while she's carrying his twins, skin taut and so warm under his touch.

"Here. Let me..." Pekka guides the t-shirt up over her head and flings it off to one side. "There we go."

Hilary laughs. "Better?"

"Mm, much better."

Her laughter tastes sweet, effervescent when she kisses him again and yanks at his own shirt. "C'mon, Pekka, if you get to see the goods then so do I."

Pekka's happy to oblige her. Anything to keep that fond look on her face or transform it into something better. Just like down in the kitchen he's hit with the weight of just how much he loves her; it leaves him in awestruck stillness, unable to move or speak until Hilary touches his face with hesitant fingers and asks,

"You okay?"

Pekka blinks, turning his head to the side to kiss her fingertips. "Fine. More than fine."

He takes her hand in his, guides it to his chest. It's up to her how far they go tonight. Hilary bites her lip, gaze intent where she's touching him, but she doesn't pull away or move out of his lap.

"This isn't..." Her fingers drum against his skin. "If this is gonna be a. You know."

"What?" Pekka rubs Hilary's back, waiting, until she says,

"I like this. You. But-" She breaks off, shakes her head, and reaches back to pull her hair out of its messy bun. "Fuck it. Never mind," she finishes, and kisses him again.

*

Despite the relatively low number of times they've done this, Pekka's always paid careful attention to what Hilary likes and filed the information away for future reference. Hilary likes his touch to be fast and firm on the side of her clit, she likes his mouth slow and promising enough to make her writhe, with one finger - not two - pressed in just so. Pekka plans to get his mouth on her later, lick her clean, but right now he's content to touch, and feel, and talk.

"Should've known you'd look so good," he murmurs, as Hilary's hips cant up toward his hand. "I always thought you were gorgeous, but like this...with our little ones...god, Hilary. I can't stop thinking about it."

She moans, her head falling back onto his shoulder. "You're...mmm, not so bad yourself, even when you're being a tease."

"Not teasing."

"Are too."

"I'd never do that."

"Are you...yeah, just like that...are you planning on fucking me any time today?" Hilary asks, breathy but arch, rubbing back against him to make her point, "or do I have to go get Mr. Purple Sparkly and take care of it myself?"

"You didn't bring Mr.-" Pekka breaks off, laughing. "You _named_ it?"

"Shut up, it was a long winter," Hilary snaps, but she's laughing too, lips curved up in a sweet smile when Pekka tilts her chin towards his for a kiss. "Come on, Pekka. You know I'll just sit on your dick if I have to, but..."

Her gaze goes half-lidded in the way that means she's got a plan. "But what?" Pekka asks.

"I thought we could try something we haven't done before, and all fours is supposed to feel even better during pregnancy..."

He groans. "Yes. Yes, god yes, let's do that."

Hilary scoots forward and eases herself into a comfortable position. Awed, Pekka stares at her until she looks over her shoulder with one eyebrow raised, a clear Get A Move On. He shakes his head. One thing at a time. Right.

Her back is warm against his chest when he drapes himself over her, careful to brace his weight on his hands where they bracket hers. Pekka brushes Hilary's hair back, mouths across the Olympic rings tattooed on her shoulder and waits until her hips shift restlessly back, seeking him out. He wants her, wants her more than he's ever wanted anyone, but Pekka won't rush. Today, tomorrow, six months from now...there's no guarantee what will happen. He'll burn this into his memory.

Finally Hilary loses patience, but instead of demanding, cajoling, or reaching down to take matters into her own hands, she turns around and breaks him with a simple word.

"Please."


	6. Chapter 6

Almost from the moment they get to their gate in New York, Pekka starts to relax. The quiet feeling of not-quite belonging he carries all year long in Nashville begins unraveling as soon as he sees Finnish families and hears Finnish voices; they, too, are ready to go home.

Hilary travels in Pride sweats, an old t-shirt, and a Red Bull hat pulled low over her face until they're seated on the flight to Helsinki. She makes a face at first class, and another face when Pekka offers her the window seat.

"It's a nice thought, but. Babies. Bladder. Nope."

The way her lips turn down for a moment stop him from arguing. "Okay. Let me know if you want to switch."

She passes the long-haul like Pekka does, with books on her Kindle, movies, and naps. Hilary's awake when Pekka wakes up for good, staring out the window with her fingers drumming restlessly on her belly. She doesn't look upset, exactly, but the disquiet is clear across her features and it only increases when she notices he's awake.

They deplane and get through customs with no problems, and in spite of his concern about Hilary Pekka can't be anything less than thrilled. The part of him that lives in America can rest now. He's almost home.

"The worst one is over," he says, and helps her into a seat at their next gate. "Helsinki to Oulu is nothing, and Anna left my car at the airport so we can get to Kempele with no trouble. It's a short drive."

Hilary grunts an assent without looking at him. "'Kay."

She's huddled in her chair, all but dwarfed by her clothes except for the twins' unmistakable swell under her t-shirt. Pekka touches her arm.

"Can I get you anything?"

"No!" She scrambles for his hand and clutches tight. "I mean. No. No, I'm fine."

She's a shitty liar. Pekka doesn't call her on it; he lets go of Hilary's hand only to show his ticket and get situated on the plane, and keeps hold of it until they taxi into Oulu.

*

Hilary stays close to Pekka's side all through baggage claim, and navigating airport parking. Aviator shades hide the circles under her eyes; they're darker than they were in Nashville but Pekka's are too, and they're so close. Just a few more miles.

They're quiet on the drive but his phone buzzes when they reach the outskirts of Kempele, its vibrations against the center console unnaturally loud.

"Read that to me?" Pekka asks without thinking, and Hilary gives him a look.

"Anna says..." She squints at the screen. "Something. I can’t read this.”

"Here...give me..." Pekka fumbles for his phone, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

Fuck it. He's never been good at texting while driving, and the thought of risking Hilary and the little ones makes him nauseous, so Pekka presses 'call' and lets Anna's voice wash over him. He interjects just enough to let her know he's listening; yes, he's glad she put some food in the house, yes, their flights were easy, yes, he'll see her soon. He shakes his head, grinning a little when he hangs up.

"Anna brought some things over, so we don't have to go out again."

"That was nice of her," answers Hilary in a monotone.

The gravel driveway crunches like a welcome when Pekka pulls in. He turns the car off and squeezes Hilary's hand.

"We made it."

Through the haze of jet lag, nerves, and elation Pekka manages to grab their most important bags and haul them into the house. He drops them in the center of the living room and moves to go for more.

"I'll be right-"

Hilary makes a sound like a frightened animal and Pekka turns around just in time to see her bottom lip quiver, an instant before her entire face falls and she starts crying.

At a loss, Pekka puts his arms around her, relieved when Hilary doesn't push him away. Her tears eat at him, dissolving him like acid until he's empty and hurting for her, and still without a single clue as to why she's upset.

Pekka rubs her back and asks, "What do you need?" in a soft voice. Hilary doesn't answer; instead she sobs harder, until her whole body is racked with emotion. She's clinging to him, though; her fingers dig into Pekka's skin and her cries are muffled against his shirt, so he holds on tight and waits.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs in Finnish. "I'm so sorry, Hilary."

She sniffs and looks up at him through red eyes. "What the fuck are you sorry for?"

"Whatever I did to make you, you know. Upset," answers Pekka, and doesn't comment that she understood that small bit of Finnish.

Her fingers tighten, hard enough to leave imprints, and then she's crying again. "Shut up. Just, shut the fuck up and hold me, Pekka."

Not trusting himself to speak, he does as he's asked.

"This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm not supposed to _be here_ ," Hilary gets out, and Pekka's heart drops. "You don't meet your boyfriend's family when you're five months pregnant! You, you have brunch and talk about nice neutral shit while everybody pretends they don't know you fuck. It smells weird here and they're gonna _hate_ me, Pekka! I don't want them to hate me."

"They won't hate you," Pekka starts, but Hilary cuts him off.

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do." Hyper-conscious of her body language, he pulls back just far enough to tilt Hilary's chin up. Her face is blotched red from crying. "Anna's been chatting my ear off, Mom and Dad keep telling me how happy they are that you came to Finland, my cousins ask after you every time we talk. Everyone is excited, Hilary."

She sniffs, bottom lip quivering. "I swear to god, if you're lying to me..."

"I'm not. You'll see."

Eventually sobs give way to sniffles as Hilary cries herself out. She nestles against Pekka's chest and finally lets go of his shirt, bringing one hand up to touch the places where her tears soaked the fabric.

"Sorry."

Pekka kisses her forehead. "'S okay. You want to take a nap?"

"It's only noon."

It's a weak protest, not even half-assed, as Shea likes to say. Quarter-assed at best.

"It's okay. We've had a long day."

Pekka puts his hand on the small of Hilary's back and guides her upstairs. Bless Anna for making the bed too, and for putting clean towels in the bathroom. Pekka doesn't comment that she's never gone this far in years past. Hilary will see soon enough how ready his family is to welcome her with open arms. He's tempted to heat the sauna and melt the rest of American life away, but Hilary shucks her sweatpants, does the bra-off-with-one-hand trick, and burrows right under the blankets until only her hair is showing. Sauna can wait. Holding her can't.

Pekka's clothes join hers, but Hilary huffs as soon as he tries to spoon in close like usual.

"Fuck off, I need a pillow," she grumbles, and turns around to heave one leg over Pekka's thighs. "Gimme your arm- no, not like...here. Stretch it out."

Feeling somewhat like a doll, Pekka lets himself be maneuvered as Hilary sees fit: on his side, with her head pillowed on his bicep and her face tucked in the crook of his shoulder.

Hilary wakes up only when Pekka tries to extract his arm. It's long since gone numb; his stomach is growling and he has to pee, but she's nestled in tight and pries one eye open when he finally gets loose.

"Wha' time is it?"

"Getting near dinner. You wanna-"

Hilary's asleep before he can finish the sentence. Smiling a little, Pekka shakes his head and goes downstairs. He's not a great cook so his kitchen is nothing special, but after nine months away even the mundane countertop feels extraordinary under his hands. The corners are rounded but sturdy, they'll need bumpers for sure and the cabinets will need child locks. Nothing here was built with a child in mind, let alone two. Pekka gets so lost in making a baby-proof list that he jumps when his phone goes off.

_Stop thinking so hard._

He grins at Anna's text. They've always been close and highly intuitive about each other's emotions, sometimes to the point of making other people uneasy. Will his own twins be the same way?

Anna sends, _Be there soon_ , bringing food followed up with, _The usual on your pizza?_ because she's the best twin sister ever.

_Yeah. With an extra pineapple and blue cheese for H when she wakes up_

Pekka half-heartedly flips through a magazine while he waits. The second he catches headlights coming up the driveway he's up and moving for the door, out on the porch rocking on the balls of his feet before Anna can get out of her car. She rolls her eyes as she follows him into the house, but she's smiling too.

Anna doesn't even say hello, instead she puts the boxes down and pulls Pekka into a tight hug that leaves him breathless with how much he's missed this. He's so lucky, 'blessed' as they like to say back in Nashville, he gets to play his favorite game for a living, but the sacrifices of leaving home behind- leaving his family behind- take a toll. Pekka's not ashamed to hold on as long as he can.

"Food's gonna get cold," says Anna softly, and taps his arm.

They take their pizza out into the living room. Pekka goes back into the kitchen to grab a pair of long drinks, cranberry for him and grapefruit for Anna, and settles in next to her, happy to laugh at their old jokes and talk about nothing. Halfway through his dinner Pekka catches Anna staring at him with the same expression their mom likes to wear, the one that says she’s figured out a secret before she’s been told.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“No.” Anna’s smile softens. “You just look more like yourself, that’s all.”

Pekka blinks, confused. “I’m always myself.”

“Yeah, I know, you’re just...more you, I guess. Happier than you’ve seemed the past couple of summers.”

He looks down, smiling. “I am happy,” says Pekka, and looks back up to meet Anna’s eyes. “I...it’s not anything I saw coming, but. It’s good.”

"Pekka?"

He looks up to find Hilary in the kitchen doorway, still in only underwear and a t-shirt, hair tumbling down around her shoulders. She rubs a hand across her eyes and gives him a sleepy smile, only to notice Anna and freeze like a hunted deer.

"Shit. Uh, hi, I guess I should go put some pants on."

Pekka opens his mouth to answer, but Anna beats him to it. "You don't have to. I'll see a lot more than your legs when we go to sauna together."

"When we..." Hilary's brow furrows. "We will?"

"Sure. As long as Peksi doesn't keep you to himself all summer long," Anna says, and stands up, heading for the kitchen. "Are you hungry? We got an extra pizza for you."

Hilary looks back at Pekka for help, but all he can do is shrug. If Anna's decided to throw formality out the window, then that's that. He can't let her get away with it without deadpanning,

"Hilary, please meet my sister Anna. She's the shy one in the family."

"He means I'm the cool one," says Anna, and Hilary laughs.

"Yeah, well. It's not hard to be cooler than him."

Anna cackles and Pekka puts on a wounded look, but underneath the pout he's delighted to see Hilary relax a little, in his kitchen, in his home. They're hers now, too, if she wants them. If she wants him...

"Pekka!"

He jumps. "What?"

"Nothing. Just making sure you're still with us," says Anna sweetly, then switches back to Finnish. "You're not subtle, you know that, right?"

"I'm ignoring you."

"Sure you are.”

"She called me her boyfriend," he muses, remembering, and Anna raises an eyebrow. "Earlier, I mean."

“Well...yeah? I mean, aren’t you?” Anna groans. “Wait, why am _I_ having this conversation with you?"

"Uh, guys?"

They both turn to look at her. Hilary's eyes widen. "Okay, wow, I'm used to the Lameroux twin-ness, but that was..." She laughs, shaking her head. "Oh god, this is the rest of my life, isn't it? Twins doing...twin things, everywhere."

“You’ll learn to love us,” says Anna, with a sly look at Pekka.

Pekka very maturely refrains from kicking her. It's what he gets for making fun of her when she met her husband Mika. Karma, or something, and besides...oh...huh. Hilary’s blushing. He lifts his arm and nods to the empty space on the couch.

“C’mere.”

With a shy grin Hilary comes back to the living room and settles in next to him. It’s reflex to kiss her shoulder, just like it’s reflex to reach over and flick Anna like they’re kids again. She laughs and swats him away.

“You’ve got it so bad, you know that, right?”

Pekka groans. “God, I know.”

*

The first few days are reserved for sleeping, eating, and loafing, just like they are every summer while the jetlag fades and Pekka’s bearings about where home is recalibrate. Anna and Mika come over and he goes to see his mother and father; he and Hilary run into a few of his cousins on the streets of Kempele and it’s good. It’s really good. Hilary takes the abundance of family with good humor, but her expression always falters every time anyone mentions Pekka’s parents.

“It’s nothing,” she says when he asks her about it. “Your family’s great so far, but once I meet the parents, then it’s. You know.”

“It’s what?”

“We’re officially-” She breaks off suddenly, wide-eyed, and grabs her belly. "Oh my god. _Ohmygod._ "

Pekka's at her side in an instant. "What? What's wrong?"

Hilary doesn't answer. Instead she takes his hand and puts it under her shirt. For a moment nothing happens, then something moves, tapping against Pekka’s hand. His mouth drops open.

“ _Voi_ \- Oh my god, they’re-”

“They’re kicking,” she finishes. “Holy fuck, Pekka, they’re kicking!”

She hurries over to the couch and sits down to tuck her shirt up in her bra. Pekka kneels in front of her, holding his breath, anxious to see the twins move again.

"Hi, babies. Hi, my little ones, can you hear me?" he asks in Finnish, keeping his hands on Hilary's belly as he talks. "Are you going to be active, like your Äiti and Täti Anna and Setä Mika? Plenty of things we can do with that, but if you’re calm that’s okay too. Plenty of room in the world for all kinds.”

He keeps talking, mostly nonsense so they can get used to the sound of his voice as they move, sometimes kicking with force, sometimes barely more than a tap against his hand. It’s mesmerizing, and Pekka’s dizzy with it.

"And here we have the male in his native habitat, brimming with testosterone and pride as he observes his soon-to-be offspring,” says Hilary in a laughably bad nature show voice, but her eyes are wet and she’s grinning just as hard as he is.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Once they get settled, summer falls into an easy schedule with sporadic commitments here and there. Since Hilary wakes up a lot in the middle of the night Pekka tends to be first up in the morning; he gets out of bed, goes downstairs to put on a pot of decaf for her and a pot of regular coffee for him, fixes a cup just how she likes it, and brings it upstairs.

She's in his country, in his home, in his bed. It's not creepy to touch her face and marvel for a moment. Pekka thinks about tracing the glow from her cheeks to her neck, see how far down it goes, but they’ve got a busy day ahead. 

"Hilary. Come on, time to wake up now."

She aims an ineffectual swat in his general direction. "Fuggof, 'm sleeping."

Pekka bites back a smile. "I know. You can sleep more later, but you should wake up now." She grunts and pulls the blanket over her head. Time to break out the big guns. "I made coffee."

"Where? Gimme."

Hilary’s hands grope out from her blanket nest, but Pekka holds it up out of reach. "Got to open your eyes and sit up first, then you can have coffee."

"You're the worst," says Hilary, and sits up with a frown, crossing her arms over her belly.

"I have candy too." Pekka hands over the cup with a fresh bar of chocolate, unwrapped and ready to be eaten.

Her eyebrows go up and she reaches for the treats. "Okay, you're the best.”

The noise she makes around a mouthful of chocolate is obscene. Pekka hurries downstairs to get some coffee for himself. If he stays and listens to that any longer, they’re not going to make it out of the bedroom and they both have places to be. She’s in the closet ferreting for clothes when he gets back to the bedroom, all long legs and smooth skin. She’s beautiful.

“I can feel you perving on me from here,” Hilary tosses back over her shoulder. 

Pekka's ears heat up. Busted. Hilary just laughs and takes a shirt out of the closet. "It's okay. I kinda like it."

Eyes mischievous, she pulls her shirt up and off, leaving her naked except for the Wonder Woman underwear she slept in. The glow radiates across her body, from the pink in her cheeks to the extra luster in her hair. 

"Toss me my bra?"

Pekka does as he's told; Hilary gets dressed and saunters over to him, hips rolling, belly proud. 

"Thanks," she murmurs against his mouth, then pulls away with a grin before Pekka can get a proper kiss. He groans.

"Please don't kill me before I get to meet our children."

"You'll survive," Hilary says cheerfully, and shimmies into a pair of maternity leggings. “Like my shirt?”

The gold cursive ‘Napping For Three’ shines as she moves. Pekka gives her a thumbs up. “Where’d you find that?”

“Etsy. Can’t go wrong.”

*

"So let me get this straight,” she says when they’re downstairs getting ready to leave, “I've got a doctor’s appointment, then you get to go be a model."

Pekka rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he helps her into her shoes. "Not modeling, I'm just doing a favor for a friend."

"Right. A favor that means you'll be trying on hats and getting your picture taken. Explain to me how that's not modeling?"

“Because I’m not getting paid for it.”

Hilary laughs and pulls her hair back into bun high on top of her head. "Too sexy for your shirt, too sexy for your shirt, so sexy it hurts."

She makes a noise like a horny frat boy and winks at him. Pekka shouldn't be charmed by that, but he's mostly learned to expect the unexpected when it comes to Hilary.

Since Anna’s mother-in-law is a nurse finding a good obstetrician had been easy, and they spend the 20-minute drive into Oulu bickering good-naturedly about baby names. Pekka lets Hilary off at the office door and goes to park before joining her inside. The receptionist grins at Hilary’s shirt; they get checked in and take their seats to wait, just like every other couple. For now that’s what they are, just another family-to-be caring for the lives to come while preparing for their lives to change.

The office door opens and closes while patients come and go until a small ginger-haired woman looks down at her chart and calls, “Rinne, Knight!”

“We’re here,” Hilary calls back, while Pekka hurries to his feet to help her up. 

Dr. Heikkonen smiles at them, professional and warm with a small smudge of coral lipstick on her teeth. “I think we speak English since you answered me in English. How are you feeling today, Hilary?”

“Good. No nausea or anything,” she answers as she gets situated on the office table. 

"And how are your moods?"

Hilary rolls her eyes. "Stupid. I cried for half an hour the other day when the bakery was out of the cake I wanted and then I started laughing about how dumb it was to be crying over that."

Pekka shudders, remembering how unnerving it was to go outside to bring in the groceries only to find her torn between cackles and heart-rending sobs. It had taken a warm blanket, a cup of tea, and a frantic trip to the K-Market for a whole cake to get her calm again.

"Hormonal mood changes are normal, so long as you don't feel any extreme rage or deep depression," says Dr. Heikkonen. "Keep monitoring it like you're doing, and if anything changes we will make adjustments. If you could lift your shirt up, please?”

“That’s what she said,” says Hilary under her breath. Pekka bites back a laugh. Maturity and responsibility, or something.

The gel really does look cold and uncomfortable. The entire procedure seems less ‘wonder of technology’ and more ‘straight out of a science fiction novel,’ weird in concept and even weirder in practice, but so cool. Pekka’s breath catches when the twins appear. They’re so tiny, two distinct little forms nestled together.

He reaches out to touch the monitor and catches himself. "Sorry."

“It’s okay. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

"We can find out the sex today, right?" asks Hilary, and reaches over her shoulder for Pekka's hand. "The anticipation is killing me a little bit."

Dr. Heikkonen gives them a knowing smile. "Of course. You're having one of each, a boy and a girl."

Pekka doesn't hear the rest of her explanation as she points out their anatomical differences and growing organs. A boy and a girl. A healthy son and daughter. He's going to be a father to both. They still don't look like much on the monitor; two blurry forms silhouetted in black and white competing for space, but. _But._ Their little ones are there and their hearts beat steady and true, dual metronomes of life's potential. He never understood why people talked about feeling so full they wanted to explode, until now. 

There's so much, a hurricane of awe and joy and wonder and sheer terror, so much there's no way his heart can hold it all. How can anyone's?

*

Taking a few photos for Ville’s inexplicable second career as a fashion designer is nothing after the excitement of seeing the twins. Pekka poses as he’s directed, smiles a lot, and gets catcalled by Hilary every time he changes. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon, overall. 

"What are you hungry for?" Pekka asks once they’ve wrapped up shooting and she’s wearing one of the Bille Beino hats he swiped for her. “There’s a lot of places near here.”

"Meat," Hilary answers without hesitation. "Seriously, what kind of unspeakable sex acts do I have to offer up for a burger? The greasier it is, the nastier I’ll go.”

Pekka snorts. His diet plan can go to hell for one meal. "Let’s get you fed first, then we can talk about sexual favors. You want to drive?”

He directs her to a nice little café known for its lunches and watches her eyes light up as she reads the menu. The guy behind the counter taking their orders can’t be older than about 22 but he eyes Hilary shamelessly, gaze travelling from her face to her breasts to her belly and back again, and it sets Pekka’s teeth on edge. He straightens to his full height, squares his jaw, and puts a possessive hand on Hilary’s belly, never once breaking eye contact as he pays for their meal. 

Hilary rolls her eyes and mutters “Oh my god, really?” but she doesn’t dislodge his hand until she sits down at their table.

“Uh, testosterone much?”

“Only sometimes.” Pekka fidgets with his napkin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just remember there’s only enough room for one hormonal crazy person, here.”

She sounds amused, not upset. Pekka isn’t given to fits of jealousy or chest-beating, but he made those, logic and civility be damned. He’s allowed to protect his family, even if they’re not here yet.

Hilary grins and rubs her hands together when their food comes a few minutes later. "Oh, fuck yes. Come to mama. Hang on...gotta..." She gets phone and takes a quick photo. "There we go. Food porn all up in my Snap story."

Pekka laughs and picks up his knife and fork just as she picks up her burger. They both freeze and stare at each other and awkward silence. 

"Uh, what are you doing?" Hilary asks, looking at the cutlery in Pekka's hands. "Who eats a burger with a knife and fork?"

Pekka's lived in the United States long enough to not be totally horrified by just picking food up off the plate, but old habits die hard. "I do. At least when I'm home."

"That's just wrong." Hilary shudders, then shrugs. "Whatevs. Be polite as you want. I'm fuckin’ hungry."

She tears into the burger with alacrity, making soft happy noises as she eats. In the end, Hilary eats all of her burger and half of his, even picking at the fries left on Pekka's plate when he pushes it toward her.

"Still hungry?" he asks when she's finished.

Hilary leans back in her chair, folds her hands neatly on top of her belly, and grins at him. 

"Stretchy pants for the motherfucking win, oh my God." Her smile softens. "No, I'm good for now. Want to go home and take a nap?"

*

Hilary's quiet on the drive back to Kempele; she swipes the keys from Pekka and focuses on the road, until she asks,

"What do you think about Sam?"

"Sam who?" asks Pekka, and she shakes her head.

"No, no, not as a person. As a name."

He thinks about it, sounds it out in his head. "Sam Rinne-Knight. That's not so bad."

"It's missing something, though. We could go really high fantasy, name him Samwell or Samwise."

Pekka snorts. He's seen every Game of Thrones episode courtesy of Shea and multiple Tolkien fans have passed through the Preds' locker room.

"Elvish is based on Finnish," he muses, smiling a little, "so if we go that way, it has to be Elvish. Like…what’s his name? The blond pretty one?"

"Gonna have to be a little more specific, Peks. That's, like, 90% of the elves in those movies." 

Hilary taps her lips, thinking. "We could compromise, though," she says after a moment. "I pick the names, and if there's a Finnish version we go with that one. A little bit of you, a little bit of me. Sound fair?”

"Hmm. If I agree, do I still get veto power? Turn left here."

"Your opinion will be taken into consideration," says Hilary, sly, and Pekka laughs.

"I see how it is. Let’s see. Samuli...no. Samppa..."

Hilary wrinkles her nose. "Definitely not."

"Sami." Wide-eyed, he turns to look at her. "Sami Rinne-Kight."

Hilary smiles and says, "Welp. One nugget down, one to go," but she reaches for Pekka's hand and keeps hold of it until they get home.


	8. Chapter 8

Their routine shifts again as Pekka’s off-season training increases. Hilary becomes a regular at the Oulu swimming hall, getting her workouts in while Pekka does his. As a rule he prefers swimming in lakes to anything with chlorine, but he joins her in the pool from time to time after her water aerobics class, if only to enjoy her belly in the added buoyancy.

They’re winding down for bed on a Wednesday evening, after their childbirth class and a small dinner in the city. Hilary's already in bed playing on her phone, her face still flushed pink from the shower's heat. She glances up with a quick smile before turning her attention back to the screen; she hums under her breath and nods along as Pekka dries off. 

"Anything good?”

"No, not real- wait. Lemme..." Her fingers swipe across the screen and she whistles, low and surprised. "Welp. Looks like the Oilers actually decided to put some money where their mouth is. Hall's going to New Jersey."

Huh. "What for?"

"Looks like a one-for-one. One of the Devils' D, Larsson. Never heard of him."

"That's it?" Pekka shakes his head. Edmonton isn't exactly known for its defensive depth, but it's insane to give up an All-Star without getting one in return.

"Oilers gonna Oil," says Hilary with a smirk, and turns back to her phone.

Outside it starts to rain. The clouds that blew in from the lake earlier break, pelting the roof with heavy insistent drops. Pekka turns back to dressing. Trades are inevitable this time of year as teams try to decide who they want to be, whether to scratch and claw for hope, make a small change, or, when imagination fails, to blow the fucking thing apart. It'll pass. It always does.

"Hall should be glad to be out of Edmonton. It has to sting, after all he went through there, but starting over isn't always a bad thing," he muses, and Hilary nods.   
  
"Sometimes it's for the best."   
  
She keeps scrolling. It's a warm night; Pekka forgoes a shirt and lies down next to her after running a towel over his hair. He peers over, Hilary refreshes her Twitter feed, and they both go still.

"Subban for..." He can't say the words. It's a rumor. It has to be a rumor. "Reload the app. It's a glitch."

Biting her lip, Hilary closes Twitter and pulls it back up again. They're coming thick and fast, now, one after the other, shock, disbelief, _emotionsemotionsemotions_ from all angles as the news breaks over the hockey world like a storm breaking overhead.

Pekka grabs his phone and runs for the door, pulling up Shea's number as he goes. It goes right to voicemail.

"Shea...Webs, fucking...just call me back? Please just call me back."   
  
He hangs up with a growl, braced against the wall as frustrated tears sting at his eyes. Trades happen. This is what they signed up for, but this is what they signed their deals to prevent, and now Shea, the most stalwart teammate Pekka's ever had, is gone.

When he looks up, Hilary's standing in the doorway, watching him with quiet sympathy. The look in her eyes promises nothing but kindness; he knows her well enough to know she’ll give it if he asks, but kindness will only make it worse.

"He’s not answering," Pekka mumbles, and drops his gaze back to the phone in his hand. "I need to…fuck, Hilary, I don’t know what I need.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know right this second. Wanna talk about it?”

Saying it out loud will make it more real, so, no. Pekka shakes his head. 

“Okay. Clearly there’s only one thing left to do, then, and that’s tea. With exactly two and a half lemon slices and one American teaspoon of honey. Do you want black tea, or some of my ginger stuff?"

"Ginger, please."

Hilary smiles and shoos him toward the bed. "'Kay."

Pekka flops back on the pillows. It's just business. It's never personal, except how it's always fucking personal. His chest is tight with stinging helplessness; the whole thing is far out of Pekka's hands and he can't do a goddamned thing to change it, he can't even tell Shea how much he'll miss him, because Shea's a stubborn son of a bitch who probably won't answer his phone for a month.  

So many have come and gone. All except him and Shea. That's how it was supposed to be, two men who came to the ice as teammates and left as brothers. Fuck, he hates change so much sometimes.

She comes back with a steaming mug in each hand, and sets them down carefully on the nightstand before climbing back into bed next to him. "Here. The Cynthia Knight special."

Pekka takes the mug and murmurs his thanks. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you right now, not the other way around," he says, and Hilary jabs him.

"We're a team, dumbass. That means we take care of each other. You can paint my toenails in thanks."

He puts his head on her shoulder, quiet while he sips his tea. The honey eases both the lemon's bite and the ginger's spice; he doesn't usually associate these flavors with comfort, but he accepts the gesture for what it is.

"This whole year…everything I thought I knew keeps getting turned upside down. Everything is changing."

"It is," Hilary agrees, "but that's why you have good people around you, so they can help out when life takes weird bounces and you don't know what the fuck is going on anymore."

She scoots a little closer. “I’m sorry about Shea, Pekka.”

Pekka nods, reaching for her hand. Hilary’s warm from her mug and he lets it seep in, just a little bit.


	9. Chapter 9

"So. Your parents."

Pekka looks up from painting Hilary's toenails. "What about them?"

"I want to meet them." She's staring determinedly at the TV, her fingers bunching and unbunching her sweatshirt the only sign of nerves. "Make the call."

"Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds like you're asking me to have them killed," says Pekka, and Hilary kicks him, laughing.

"Shut up and finish my pedicure, you dork."

"Yes, dear."

*

They're invited over for dinner the next night, to Pekka's complete and utter lack of surprise. An hour before they're due to leave Hilary bans him from the bedroom with a good-natured “Fuck off and go get me some anxiety cake!” so he leaves a slice outside the door and putters around on his laptop until he hears the door open.

“Can I come up now?” Pekka calls up the stairs, and gets a huff in response. 

“Yeah, but if you laugh at me, I swear to god…”

“I won’t laugh,” he promises. “Okay, I’m coming up now, I need to change my shirt and comb my hair.”

Pekka finds Hilary in the ensuite, putting on mascara and leaning in as close to the mirror as her belly will let her. She’s wearing her favorite leggings under a red plaid wrap dress and her hair is loose around her shoulders. He waits until she’s done with her makeup, then asks,

“Doing okay?”

Hilary shrugs. “Great, other than the fact that I’m as big as a bloated rhino, and not sure if I’m about to puke because pregnancy or because parents.” She pokes at her breasts. “God, they’re huge. No one told me they’d get this big.”

They’re also fantastic, but Pekka doesn’t mention that. "Here." He hands over some of the ginger chews he's learned to keep in his pockets. “For your stomach.”

Hilary gives him a grudging smile and pops one in her mouth. “Thanks.”

Pekka moves behind her and steps in close, putting his hands on her belly. "If I tell you something, will you believe me?"

"That depends. Is it true?"

"Very true." He kisses the back of her neck. "You look beautiful, and there's nothing to worry about tonight. Well. Except for my mother trying to send you home with all kinds of food you don't want."

“You’re just saying that because you have to,” says Hilary, but she’s biting back a smile. 

“It’s still true.”

Hilary keeps a stoic face on the drive over to his parents' house. Only her jiggling leg gives her nerves away and Pekka puts his hand on her thigh; she flicks gently at his fingers but doesn't push him off.

His parents are outside waiting for them. Hilary swears under her breath and gets out of the car before Pekka can hurry around to open the door for her; she lifts one hand in greeting and straightens her back, resolute as she walks up towards the house. Holy shit, they’re really doing this.

Hilary comes to a stop in front of his parents. Pekka squeezes her gently; she nudges him, then squares her shoulders and says, "Good evening" in careful, practiced Finnish. "It's nice to meet you."

Pekka's parents beam. His dad looks thrilled and his mom looks on the verge of tears when she opens her arms to pull Hilary into a hug.

"Oh, sweetheart, welcome. It is so good you're here." Her eyes are wet when she pulls back and lifts a questioning hand towards Hilary's belly. "May I?"

Hilary nods. Watching them together...there's happiness, then there's this sweet, tangible joy that rises up to take his breath away. Pekka can’t stop watching them, and he doesn’t try.

Once they get inside His father insists on giving Hilary a tour of the house, including a special stop in his office where he keeps all of Pekka’s old goalie masks. It’s one thing to know his dad is proud of him. It’s quite another to hear him brag like Pekka is the only professional athlete in the room, which, no. Not even close.

“She’s won Worlds six times and been to the Olympics twice, Dad. She really doesn’t need to know how great you think I am,” Pekka reminds him in Finnish, feeling all too much like a teenager bringing a girl home for the first time.

“I know how good she is, that’s why I’m trying to impress her into sticking around.” He switches to English and smiles at Hilary. “What do you think, Hilary? Will the babies be forwards like you, or goalies like Pekka?”

“Hmm. They’ll probably play defense, just to rebel against us,” she answers as she peruses Pekka’s old masks. “You and your monsters, Peks. And...huh. Eye for detail, huh?”

Her fingers trace the backplates, stopping every time she sees the tribute on every one, but Hilary doesn't comment and keeps making conversation with Pekka's father. They seem more than happy to stay in the office talking hockey, so Pekka leaves them alone and goes to help his mom with dinner.

"What time are Anna and Mika coming?"

"They should be here soon. Here." She shoves a handful of silverware at him. "Set the table."

"No plastic tonight? Fancy," Pekka teases, and his mother flaps a dishrag at him.

"As if I'm going to let my new daughter-in-law use plastic."

He almost drops the spoons. "We're not-"

"I know you’re not. But it doesn't take a marriage to make a family, Peksi. Now hurry up! Anna's bringing ice cream."

Pekka just shakes his head and does as he's told.

*

It’s a good night. A really, really good night. Hilary’s hand stays on Pekka’s leg through dinner and she fits right in with his family just like he hoped she would, cracking jokes with Anna, swapping hockey stories with Mika, and helping his mother in the kitchen until she’s herded out with a fond tutting Pekka knows all too well. There's so far still to go; Hilary will go back to America, leave Finland behind before he can follow her, carry the little ones without him, but they have right now. They have this. 

Hilary ropes him in for a hug as soon as they get home. She puts her arms around his neck and angles Pekka down for a kiss he happily gives. His hands go to her waist, sliding just under her shirt, his thumbs stroking careful circles along her belly.

"You should take me to bed," she whispers against his mouth.

Pekka hums and slides his hands up higher. "Should I?"

"Uh huh. You want to?"

"Always," Pekka answers. It's true, after all. "Come on."

*

In some ways it's different here, in the high evening light where he can catch every subtlety as Hilary lounges across her body pillow, running her fingers across her breasts and squeezing her thighs together every so often. Pekka shrugs out of his jeans, unbuttons his shirt, and crawls toward her, easing one hand between her legs to find her already wet. He makes a low satisfied noise.

"Easy, hotshot, that's hormones and my imagination," says Hilary, grinning.

Pekka clutches his chest in mock pain, but he keeps his other hand in place. "How do I make it because of me?"

Hilary licks her lips. "Well. You can start by getting rid of those," she says, plucking at his underwear. "They're in my way."

Well. They can't have that, so Pekka does as he's told and takes them off. Hilary's eyes darken; she's not shy about staring at him and he's struck by just how much he wants to impress her. Shoulders back, chest out, thighs parted, Pekka lets her look her fill. He fights the sudden flush of shyness and takes himself in hand, easy grip, nice and slow. He's fully hard, naked for her in more ways than one.

"Oh, fuck, it's a damn shame that if I try to get on my knees I'll never get up again," muses Hilary, and Pekka groans. God, the thought...

"I'd help you get up."

"I bet you would," she laughs, and licks her lips because clearly she's determined to drive Pekka out of his mind.

He has to kiss her then, if only to make her stop talking before he blows like a teenager. Pekka crawls over lay next to her against the mattress, careful, always careful. Hilary's hands skate across his side, finding the hollows in his ribcage, the scars on his hip, tiny unimportant bruises. 

"You're comfortable like this?" Pekka asks between kisses, pulling back a little. "Everything is good?”

“It’s good.” She kisses him again, lazy, wet, and promising before pulling away too soon to turn over on her other side. 

"Sexual activity is fine, so long as orgasm is comfortable and penetration is practiced with care," deadpans Hilary in a flawless imitation of Dr. Heikkonen, and Pekka cracks up. That had been an interesting conversation.

"Don't make me laugh when I'm trying to-" He lifts her leg up and tries to push in. Nope. Not happening. "Here. Arch your back towards me."

Sex is ridiculous even under normal circumstances with the mishaps and fuckups no one likes to talk about, but all the awkwardness is worth it when Pekka manages to get the angles right Hilary makes a gorgeous breathy noise, for him and him alone, her hand scrabbling back to clutch his thigh and urge him into motion.

*

Afterwards, she moves in as close as her belly will allow, draping one arm over his chest, her fingers tapping lightly across his sternum. 

"Oh hey, I meant to ask you… What does 'Vaari' mean? I saw it on all of your masks."

"Grandfather. My dad's dad, in this case." 

Her brown eyes turn warm and curious. "You were close?" 

"Very. He was a good man." Pekka traces down her arm to where her hand sits over his heart. "He would have liked you." 

"What was his name?"

"Petteri," says Pekka.

Hilary's gaze turns thoughtful. "That's a good name. Would you want to…as a middle name, maybe?"

"You would do that for me?"

"Yeah. He's your son too, and he's part of both of us. It's weird, you know? They're Finnish and they're American, They're not one or the other, they're going to be both. I want them to be both."

Pekka nods, rubbing her back. This woman, this beautiful, thoughtful, insightful woman… "Me too. It's important. They'll have the best from Isi and Äiti."

"We still need to figure out a name for Nugget Number the Second, unless you want to put that on her birth certificate,” says Hilary. “I was thinking something to go with Sami that’s not too matchy-matchy, you know? So not, like, Samantha or something. Nothing to make our jobs any harder.”

“Good thinking.”

Pekka drifts off, relaxed and content to ease into sleep, only to start like he’s been electrocuted when Hilary grabs him by the shoulders and shouts his name.

“ _Mitä_ \- what?”

“Sofi,” says Hilary and rolls her eyes when Pekka just stares at her. “Nugget number the second, you know, the one that’s gonna be your daughter? Her name is Sofi.”

He’s too drowsy to think of arguing with her and besides...Sofi Rinne-Knight has a nice ring to it. Sofi, Sami, Pekka, Hilary. Family.


	10. Chapter 10

"Jussi has his All-Star thing every year, and a bunch of us guys from up north always go. You want to come?"

Hilary gives him a look. "Um, did you forget how an All-Star game got us here in the first place?" 

Her laughter is bright and sparkling. She's got him there. 

"I don't think I'll ever forget that." Pekka coughs, all too aware his face is heating up. "It's just a fun thing. Show up, sign some autographs, play an easy game, have dinner. You don't have to, I mean-"

"Nah, I'll come. Maybe even take the warmup and see if I can score on you, for old time's sake."

*

The day passes easily; it's good to see some of the national team guys and catch up, trade gossip about the World Cup, and talk about their summers. The NHL is far away; here it's just ice, pucks, and laughter, with no team loyalties to get in the way.

"I still don't know why Jussi didn't tell us he's such a big shot now," Leo faux-whispers to Pekka after the game. "Mr. Fancy."

"Shut up, Corporal Komarov,” says Jussi, grinning. "You're just jealous I get to spend my season where it's nice and warm instead of freezing my ass off in Canada."

Leo huffs and carries on like he always does. "Did you see who he got to show up? One of the US women's players is here. In fucking Kalajoki."

Joonas perks up, and even Granny looks interested. "Seriously? Who?"

Shit. There's no way Hilary could have stayed totally unnoticed, but there's a difference between being seen by one or two people and being seen by Leo, who's the biggest gossip around. Fucking hell, it'll be on the evening news if Pekka's not careful. He shares a look with Jussi, but it's too late. Leo's relishing his audience now.

"Hilary. Knight," says Leo, grinning as he taps the side of his nose. "Looks like she's been busy, too. About to pop.”

“About to…” Granny’s eyes go wide. He looks so young. “No way.”

“Way,” says Leo. “I wonder who the father is."

"I am," says Pekka softly.

The locker room goes silent. Leo laughs.

"Good one."

Pekka's expression doesn't change. The thought of denial sits like a sour taste in his mouth. 

Leo says, "You're fucking with me," but he sounds less confident than he did a second ago.

Pekka waits. The whole room is focused on him now. He wets his lips.

"She's due the third week in October. We're having twins. A boy and a girl."

The silence hangs like a pall, then the whole room explodes in questions and noisy congratulations. One after the other they hurry to Pekka's stall, to slap his back, offer kind words, and yell at him for not telling them sooner. Pekka beams and takes it with good humor, and by the time he hits the ice his face is sore from smiling.

*   
The game passes in a hurry, easy like it is every year, and soon Pekka is back in the locker room ducking towel smacks as he gets showered and changed into regular clothes for the autograph session. He spends the hour before dinner answering Jussi’s questions and failing to get all the Sharpie off his hands, but it’ll wash off eventually.

“Hazard of the trade,” Hilary teases. “That and getting blind from all the cameras. Baby there’s no other superstar, you’ll know that I’ll be your papa, paparazzi…”

Oh god, now that’s going to be in his head all night. Great.

Hilary looks a little uncomfortable at dinner; everyone speaks to her in English only to lapse right back into Finnish without thinking, accidentally excluding her from half the conversation in the process. Pekka translates as they go, much more on guard about which language he’s using and careful to keep her hand in his, but when he excuses himself for a few moments he comes back to find his seat taken by Salla Jokinen. She and Hilary appear deep in a conversation of their own; Salla’s smile is bright and Hilary is laughing, happier than she’s looked since they sat down. Pekka isn’t about to interrupt that, so he nods to Salla and keeps moving.

He spends the rest of the evening making the rounds with Jussi, talking to donors and expounding on the growth of the local programs in small towns like Kalajoki and Kempele. Pekka is sure to make regular check-ins with Hilary though; he keeps her water glass full and passes over ginger chews as needed.

Hilary is still talking to Salla when it's time to leave, so Pekka goes outside to say goodbye to Leo and comes back in just in time to see the two women hug.

"Don't forget to call me!" Salla says as she walks over to Jussi. "We’ll have a no-men-allowed day. I will leave the kids with him."

Hilary beams. "I can't wait. Bye, Salla!"

Pekka shares a look with Jussi. “TV and babysitting?”

“TV and babysitting,” Jussi agrees with a smile, and switches back to English. “Thank you for coming, Hilary. You’re welcome back any time, and don’t forget to kick Pekka if he doesn’t behave.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll aim high if he deserves it.”

*

“Your friends are as bad as mine,” Hilary teases on the way home. “One big messy squad of goofballs.” She looks down at her phone and smiles, pleased and shy. “I like Salla, though. She’s really nice.”

“She’s great,” Pekka agrees. 

“She said knows a good spa in Oulu, so we’re gonna go have a girl’s day. Lunch, manis, pedis, just take it easy, you know?”

Pekka takes her hand and holds it until he has to shift gears. 

*

They warned him. Everyone, from Anna to his mom to Salla and even Jussi, warned him. Still, Pekka is not prepared for Hilary's mood to turn as she gets ready to go back to America. She smiles less and cries more in the throes of her third trimester, and nothing he does seems to make a difference. Pekka keeps trying, though, offering foot rubs, back rubs, more pillows, fewer pillows, anything to keep her as comfortable as possible.

"Anna wants to know if we want to have dinner with her and Mika tomorrow. How does that sound?"

Hilary shrugs. "Whatever you want."

"Not about me," says Pekka. "It's your last night in Finland. You should spend it how you want, not how you think you should."

She looks up from her book with a blank expression. "And then what?"

"What?"

"Exactly. What happens next, Pekka? I go back to Boston and stay there while you get to go to Helsinki and Toronto and Nashville like nothing in your life's changed."

"Wait, you're not having the little ones in Nashville?"

Pekka regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. They haven't really thought that far ahead yet, he just assumed...assumed like a selfish prick, if the storm on Hilary's face is anything to go by.

"Right. Because it's not your body, you're not the one doing all the heavy lifting, so of course you think we do it your way. Of fucking _course_ you do. Your joints don’t hurt. You can eat more than three bites of food without feeling like you’re gonna burst. Jesus, Pekka, what's wrong with you?"

She laughs. It's not a kind sound. "I mean, it's not like you're invested here, in me or in the babies. Why does it matter where they're born?"

Her words hit him like a hammer to the skull. "Is that what you think of me?"

Hilary looks away. "It's not like you've given me any reason to think differently."

She's tired, she doesn't feel well, and Pekka knows all too well the people say things they don't mean when they feel like shit. It has to be the hormones talking. At least, he hopes it's the hormones talking.

"Hilary…" Pekka starts, then stops, searching for the words. "I've done everything I can. I've never… I've never had children before, or a pregnant-"

"A pregnant what?" Her eyes are wild, a torrent of worry and fear. "Want to tell me what I am, huh?"

"No, because I don't think there's a right answer right now." Pekka sits down and puts his face in his hands for a moment before looking back at her. "What can I do? What do you need?"

Hilary's bottom lip trembles; she looks on the verge of tears, but she reigns it in with a visible effort and growls, "You can leave me alone."

She curls in on herself as much as her belly will allow and turns away, refusing to even look in Pekka's direction. He tries to wait her out, give her time to change her mind and actually talk to him, but her lip starts trembling again and she scrubs furiously at her eyes so Pekka leaves to let her gather herself in peace.

*

He retreats into the woods. The paths of his childhood are long since overgrown, but Pekka makes new ones, walking in one straight line and then another without any real destination. He goes until his legs protest, then lays down near a berry patch. The fruit is not quite ripe; he eats sour berry after sour berry before dozing off.

Pekka's watch reads 7:33 when he wakes up, which means he's been gone a little over four hours. Shit. He grabs his phone to call Hilary and apologize; even if she still doesn't want to talk to him it's not good to make her worry, but it's not her voice that answers the phone. It's Anna's.

"You want to tell me why your girlfriend called me, freaking out that you'd gone missing and convinced it's all her fault?" she asks, sardonic.

Pekka groans. Fucking hell, can't he do _anything_ right today? "We had... not a fight, fuck, I don't even know what happened, so I gave her some space. Is everything okay?"

"I think so," says Anna. "She cried herself to sleep after I got here, and I didn't want to leave until I knew when you'd be back. If you'll be back."

"Of course I'll be back! I only left because she told me to."

"Yeah, that's what I figured," she answers, and Pekka sighs.

"I'll be home soon. Stay with her? Please?"

"You don't even have to ask," says Anna warmly, and hangs up.

*  


To Pekka's surprise, Hilary is asleep in his bed when he gets home, not in one of the guestrooms. It's too early to go to sleep, but he lies down next to her anyway. A warm breeze blows in through the open window; the curtains drift lightly and Pekka is still, the closest thing to peaceful he's been all day.

After a few moments the bed shifts. When he looks over Hilary is watching him, wide-eyed and nervous.

"You came back."

Pekka nods, and with a whimper she moves as close as her belly will allow, resting her head on his shoulder and fisting her hands in his shirt. He kisses the top of her head and rubs her back, unsure whether or not to speak and risk the fragile truce, but Hilary makes the decision for him.

"Are you mad at me?"

"I don't think so," Pekka answers.

"Oh. Okay."

She doesn't apologize, and he doesn't ask for it. Hilary's quiet for a moment, then she says, "I don't want to leave" in a voice so small Pekka barely catches it.

“You don’t have to leave, if you don’t want to,” he tells her, but she shakes her head.

“Yes, I do. You know I do. But it’s just so good here and everything’s gonna change when I go back, and you won’t be there to help keep it from fucking up. God, Pekka, what if it’s all fucked up?”

“Then we deal with it,” he says as resolutely as he can manage. “I don’t know...how, but we will. We’ve come this far.”

Hilary nods, but her grip on his shirt doesn’t loosen. 

“I know what you mean, though. Here...we have a good life together, away from all the pressure. We’re just like any other couple starting a family.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Pekka answers simply.

This time the tears aren’t unexpected. He runs his hand down her back and waits; eventually her quiet sobs give way to breathy hiccups and Hilary makes grabby hands for a tissue. Pekka hands the box over before speaking again. 

"I was a coward. I thought if I showed you... how I feel, it would be enough and you would figure it out. That way… I wouldn't have to hear you say you don’t feel the same way. I'm sorry, Hilary. I should've told you as soon as I knew."

She shakes her head, hard. "Don’t think I don’t- I do too, okay? I love you and it scares the shit out of me, because...what if it turns out this whole thing is just pregnancy hormones and really good sex? What happens when that's gone, and we're too busy running all over the world playing hockey and raising our kids to put the time in and make a relationship work?"

Pekka doesn't have a good answer for her. Maybe there isn't one. 

"It's going to get worse before gets better. It still would even if there was one baby instead of two," she finishes.

"I know. They'll cry, and get sick, and have to learn to sleep through the night. Everything is going to change."

"See?" Hilary says, her voice rising, "I don't know how the fuck normal people do it even when they live in the same place and don't do what we do. Finland is going to want you, Team USA will be on my case until I get my body back and start playing again, there's always going to be someone after our time, and I...I have you. Right now, I have you. I don't want to lose you."

"I think you may be stuck with me," says Pekka. 

He kisses her hair and tries to calm his pulse. Her fears match his almost word for word and part of him wants to run screaming, but it's drowned out by how much he wants to make this work. They have a chance, here. It may be a sliver, or a slice, or, hell, an entire fucking cake like the supermarket version Hilary can't get enough of, but it's theirs. This oddball mismatched little family is theirs.

"I know it's crazy. It's been crazy from the minute I found out about the twins and I’ve never been more terrified in my life, but. I love you. I love you, and I want this. I don't think that's going to change."

“You say that, and I want to believe you, Pekka, I do, but…” Hilary sniffs and reaches for more tissues. “I can’t make that call, not here, while I’m the size of a zoo animal and so far out of my comfort zone I don’t know I’ll ever find a fuckin’ way back again. I know I love you. I know I want to be with you, but I can’t risk rushing this and fucking it up.”

“You want to wait?” Pekka will wait forever, if she asks. “We can wait as long as you want, Hilary. I’m going to be around as much as I can, so we’ll have time after the little ones are born and the...what do they call it? The new normal, that’s it. While the new normal settles in.”

She nods. “That sounds...you’ll really wait for me?”

“As long as you need me to, of course I will.”

Hilary reaches up, takes Pekka’s face in her hands, and pulls it down for a shaky kiss. She tastes like cherry chapstick and salt, and she doesn’t let go after they part. Pekka counts their shared breaths and matches his rhythm to hers, one for her, one for him, one for Sofi, one for Sami, one for everything to come. One at a time. They can do this. They can. 


	11. Chapter 11

Taking Hilary to the airport so she can catch her flights back to Boston is one of the hardest things Pekka’s ever done. In the end they push it a few minutes longer than they should; they cram together in the uncomfortable chairs near security until there’s no more putting it off and Hilary has to go.

“I’ll text you when I get to Helsinki,” she says softly.

Pekka nods and tries to pretend he’s not watching a piece of his heart walk away. The emptiness aches already. Hilary pulls him into a tight hug. Between her belly, her Snoogle pillow, and her bag, Pekka’s a little squished, but he holds on just as tightly and breathes her in one last time.

“Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she answers in careful halting Finnish, then pulls back abruptly. “Okay. Okay. Going now. Okay.”

Just like that she’s gone, beyond Pekka’s reach into a world of scanners and x-rays, back across the ocean to the place she calls her home.

*

The house echoes when he gets home. It's quiet, too damn quiet, and it grates on Pekka's nerves. Desperate to ease the silence he grabs his phone and calls Shea. They haven’t talked since the trade because Shea went AWOL like the stubborn fucker he is, avoiding everyone if the team’s summer gossip is true. It rings once, twice, three times before a clatter and muffled swearing echoes down the line.

"Fuckin'- Peks, it's 1:30 in the morning, what the fuck?"

"It's not like you've been answering your phone at reasonable hours," says Pekka acidly. 

Shea doesn't say anything, and Pekka sighs. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't call to fight with you, and I know you didn't ask to be-"

Shea cuts him off. "It's okay." 

He yawns and Pekka can just picture him, shirtless, cranky, half asleep like they've been so many times together, across skies and strange roads, mundane weeks and life-changing moments. It melts the edge off his irritation.

"You gonna tell me why you called, so I can deal with your shit and go back to bed?" 

"I just left Hilary and the little ones at the airport, and I wanted to hear my best friend tell me it's okay to be sad they're gone," says Pekka.

Shea's fond frustrated sigh chases some of the emptiness away. If Shea didn't still consider him a friend, he would've hung up.

"Yeah, Peks, it's okay. Boston isn't so far from Toronto, eh? Slip down there after the World Cup, see your girl and your kids, and then head back to Nashville."

He yawns again. "Listen, I'm fucking crashing out here. I'll call you at an actual human hour, okay? I promise I'll call this time."

He hangs up with a final goodbye and some more good-natured bitching. Pekka goes to make some tea. The quiet lingers, slightly more bearable now.

*

The rest of the summer goes too fast yet not fast enough, and before Pekka knows it he’s in Toronto with a lion on his chest and a different team around him. The World Cup is like a fever dream: once it’s done it’s done, with no telling if it’ll ever return. All too soon Finland is out and Pekka is back in yet another airport with a ticket to Boston and too little time. 

Hilary’s not on strict bedrest but she is doctor’s orders to relax as much as possible, so Brittany Ott picks him up at the airport and then back two days later when it’s time to return to Nashville. She’s good company, not prone to bullshit or sugarcoating but still kind and compassionate, and a good ratio of calm and crazy like all the best goalies are. 

“Call us when you get into Nashville,” she says as she drops Pekka off at the Logan curb. “Yeah, us. You’re Pride family, whether you like it or not. Bye, Pekka!”

A honking cab behind Brittany’s Jeep derails a longer farewell, so Pekka waves goodbye and hustles inside. He gets through the check-in desk and security with no problems; he gets a cup of coffee and sits down at his gate to wait and watch everyone else pass him by. 

*

It's good to be...Nashville isn't quite home, not like Kempele is, but over the years Pekka's learned to let his heart rest here too, and built a space to match it. He wanders around opening all the windows like he does every year when he gets back, getting some air flowing as summer's cobwebs give way to the new season's potential.

The locker room doesn't feel quite right when he gets to training camp the next day; there's no replacing Shea and no one tries, not even Fish with the out-of-place C on his chest. Pekka talks shop and shoots the normal preseason shit with everyone else and it feels normal, almost. It helps that PK is awesome and already fits right into the team, cracking jokes and passing out hugs like he's been here forever.

Once he's on the ice running drills with Maz and Juuse, Pekka's mind goes quiet like it always does, zeroed in on his body's motion and precision, again and again. This is home, regardless of where he and Hilary live. One day Sofi and Sami will understand that too.

It's not really a surprise when PK skates up to him. They've met before, of course; their conversations never went beyond small talk or in-game stuff, but now...

"So here we are."

Pekka nods around a sip of water. "Here we are."

PK looks at him. "It's okay. I know I'm not your guy. You're not my goalie yet either."

There's genuine hurt in his expression, the kind that's begun to scar over but won't ever forget what it is to ache. In all of the summer's chaos it was easy to forget Shea wasn't the trade's only casualty.

He grins, and the maudlin passes. "Word on the street says you got a pair on the way. Boy and a girl, right?"

Pekka smiles. "Yeah."

“You ready for it?”

“Is anyone ever?”

PK laughs. "Nah, I don’t think so. But hey, man, congrats!" He wraps his arm around Pekka's shoulders and shakes him a little, contagiously happy. "Listen, I've got a lot of experience with babies, all my nieces and nephews, so don't be a stranger if you need any help."

"I won't," Pekka promises. "Thanks, Subby."

There it is again, that bright sincere smile, then Lavy blows his whistle and they skate back into position.

*

The season doesn't start like any of them expected to, and despite flashes of what they know they can be, it's a mess more nights than not. Losing grates hard on Pekka's nerves like it always does; he won't trade his crease for anything but there's only so much he and any of them can control but some nights he's the only one actually fucking doing it.

"You mean, when you're actually on the ice, playing games on the road with your team and not a beached pregnant whale stuck back home?" Hilary asks when he bitches too much. "Must be really hard, being able to be out there and contribute."

There's no scorn quite like pregnant girlfriend scorn and she's right, of course. "Sorry. I'm not the best loser."

Hilary laughs, then winces and adjusts the pillows behind her back. "Who is?" She winces again. "Ugh, Peks, come to Boston and tell your spawn to stop using my bladder like a trampoline."

"I would, if I could," he says softly. His hands ache to hold her and not being able to touch her belly and feel the twins himself is driving him a bit crazy. Their little ones are doing fine at 34 weeks; Pekka was on FaceTime for Hilary's last OB appointment a few days ago, but that's not the same. It's just not.

"Are they moving now?"

She nods and gestures to her belly. "Yeah. They've been going since they woke me up from my nap." Hilary rolls her eyes, but she's smiling when she lifts her shirt up and says, "Yes, you can see."

They’re quiet for a while. Here and there something ripples across the smooth expanse of her skin, sometimes subtle, other times a clearly defined limb.

“You know this is it, right? The thing that'll make us or break us as a couple,” Hilary muses. She doesn't sound upset, just matter-of-fact.

Pekka nods. How could it not? “It's big, I know.” He shakes his head, laughing at how stupid he sounds. Fucking understatement of the century right there.

“I mean. You know what I mean,” he finishes, and Hilary laughs. 

“Yeah, no, I know. I get it, Pekka.” 

She looks tired, of course she does, but the softness in her eyes is clear as ever. Hilary hasn’t brought up wanting to actually put a name on them together, and Pekka hasn’t mentioned it since he got back to North America, but he’s not worried. They’ve come so far already. He won’t stop hoping now.

*

The misery starts slow, an unexpected spate of nausea that he puts off a simple stomach upset. They've all played through worse things; it's not until midway through the game after Craig and Joey go out sick, with only the rules about the required number of dressed goalies keeping Maz from joining them, that Pekka realizes how bad it really is.

The game is a shit show. The locker room afterwards and the flight home is even worse. Pekka barely makes it inside before he's throwing up what feels like everything he's ever eaten, hunched over the downstairs toilet until he's able to haul his sorry ass upstairs. Even rinsing his mouth makes him gag; Pekka gets in bed with a trashcan next to him and curls into a ball of discomfort. Somehow he manages a few fits of sleep, waking up only to learn the hard way that no, his body can't even handle a cup of tea. 

He wakes up early the next morning feeling even shittier than he did the night before. It takes too long to get himself out of bed and downstairs to the couch but after a few false start Pekka manages to nest in with a bottle of water and his trashcan close by. His phone lights up periodically with updates from the team; practice is cancelled and the kids are coming up from Milwaukee, thank God, so the rest of them can suffer in peace. Fuck, what did they _eat?_

Hilary's name pops up for FaceTime early in the afternoon, but it's not Hilary's face on the screen when he answers. 

Brittany waves and says, "Hey, Peks," Jordan Smelker waves, and more of the Pride mill around over their shoulders.

"The news wasn't kidding about that bad chicken soup, huh?" asks Brittany, and Pekka groans. He's never eating in Detroit again.

"Where's Hilary? Is everything-" His stomach rolls and he dives for the trashcan. There's not much left besides stomach acid and saliva, but it's fucking miserable nonetheless. "Sorry. Is Hilary okay?"

Brittany and Jordan both look a little green. "Uh huh. Just peachy. We're throwing her a baby shower tonight, if you wanna come. Well. Be on the phone, whatever."

"Or on the couch," says Brittany. "I'd ask how you're feeling, but you just barfed like a freshman, so."

"That's basically an answer right there," says Jordan. "You need anything?"

Pekka looks heavenward. He likes Hilary's friends, really he does, but right now he just wants to be sick in peace. "Listen...call me tonight, okay?"

"Okay."

"Give Hilary and my little ones a kiss for me."

"A not-food poisoned kiss, got it."

"Bye, Pekka!"

With a groan Pekka hangs up without saying goodbye and flops back. He'll apologize when he feels more like a human and less like a dead slug.

*

True to their word Brittany and Jordan call back later and pan the phone camera around to show him an apartment chock full of food, hockey players, and gifts. Hillary is on the couch with Brianna on one side and Meghan on the other, and she lights up when she sees him.

"Hey, Peks. How's the stomach?"

He groans. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You don’t have to hang out if you don’t want to, okay?”

“I’m fine,” says Pekka, a baldfaced bullshit lie if ever there was one, but Hilary doesn’t call him on it.   
  
Somewhere in the sea of wrapping paper and heartfelt thank-you’s, Pekka closes his eyes. He loves the matching fox baby blankets from Kacey and the Finnish books from Blake, and even though he’s not there he’s so glad Hilary is surrounded with all this love. He just needs to...rest his eyes a bit. Just for a second. 

He wakes up with a start. The living room shadows are too long and carry just a hint of gold; for a moment Pekka's mind bends around trying to remember what day it is, then he remembers the shower. Even if somehow Hilary's not mad at him, he's never going to live this one down.

Something clatters to the floor when Pekka sits up. His phone. Shit. 

Swearing under his breath he reaches for it, only to almost drop it again when he sees Hilary in the FaceTime window. She’s tucked against her Snoogle pillow reading one of the trashy romance novels she’s loved so much throughout her pregnancy, and she meets his bemused look with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay over there?”

“I think so.” Pekka rubs his face and groans. God, he needs a shower. “You didn’t hang up?”

Hilary shrugs, mischievous. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t puke in your sleep and die a rock star death.”

Right, because nothing says wild partying like bad soup and a baby shower. “Thank you?”

“Anytime, babe. I’m crashing out now, while the nuggets aren’t jumping around.” She blows him a kiss. “G’night, Peks!”

He falls back to sleep on the couch, phone still in hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Hilary’s due date comes and goes. It’s good for the babies; the longer a twin pregnancy can go the better, but neither of them are good at waiting. Every day Pekka wakes up hoping against hope today will be the day and his anticipation takes on a life of its own, a happy animal trying to claw its way out of his chest. 

It's strange state of limbo to be in. The dads on the team shoot him knowing looks and pat his shoulder, jokingly telling him to get as much sleep now as he can before his life gets turned upside down, while the younger guys just shrug and smile. 

The California trip is ugly, one wasted opportunity after another, and Pekka's nerves only make it worse. On to the next one, on to the next one, control what you can, Hilary's parents are in Boston taking care of her where he can't, try to stay calm-

"Okay, you know what, fuck that," Hilary tells him on his next day off. "If anyone tells you to calm down, you've got my permission to kick them in the dick, because if the SS Babymaker over here is freaking out, you are too. I'm not gonna panic alone."

That...doesn't make sense, but Pekka likes his head attached to his shoulders, so he doesn't argue. It's nice to know he's not alone, though.

*

Hilary goes into labor on a deceptively normal Tuesday.

Pekka’s been a creature of game day habit since childhood; he likes to think his routines are relatively normal even by goalie standards and so he doesn’t do anything he wouldn’t do any other day. Skate, nap, meal, and go. It’s not rocket science, thank god. 

His phone gets turned off as soon it’s time to gear up. Hilary, her parents, and at least half of Team USA has all the contact numbers for the Preds’ staff, so Pekka doesn’t alter that part of his ritual. The season doesn’t slow down for one person’s needs, no matter how big and overwhelming they feel.

Pekka gets through warm-ups with no problems, Lavy gives his normal pre-game spiel, then it’s go time, until an arm takes his. As general manager, David is almost never down in the locker rooms before game time to and yet here he is, holding Pekka back before he can get in line with the team.

"It's time to go."

"What?"

"Cynthia Knight just called. Hilary went into labor and she's on the way to the hospital. It's time, Pekka."

He sways a little, off-balance as he tries to process what are he just heard. 

"Hey, easy. Easy." David puts his hands on Pekka's shoulders to steady him. "There's a car waiting to get you to the airport, and a plane ready to take you to Boston. It's all taken care of."

"Thank you," says Pekka in a small voice, but David waves it off. 

"Go get changed." He smiles, and claps Pekka's arm. "Good luck. It's amazing to meet your kids for the first time."

He passes through Bridgestone to the airport in a state of shock, phone practically glued to his face, talking to Hilary and various members of the Pride until he has to hang up. Someone in the front office arranged for a car to meet him at Logan when he lands and Pekka's hit with a wave of gratitude for David and the staff. It could be hours, even days, before the twins come, but he couldn’t give less of a shit about time frames, so long as everyone makes it through healthy. 

*  


Thank god he’s no one in Boston. Pekka can pass through the hospital without being stopped, he can swear at the shitty maps around this maze of a facility without anyone trying to film it or ask for an autograph, he can privately freak out as much as he needs to as he tries to get up to the maternity ward. Why does a hospital need more than one second floor? Why? 

After several rounds of phone tag with Brittany and Brianna trying to meet him at different elevators, Pekka finally finds the right one and steps out into the right ward. A middle-aged couple are there waiting for him. The woman has Hilary’s bone structure and the man has her expressions. Pekka gulps. He feels very small all of a sudden. “Mr. and Mrs. Knight. Good to see you, how are you? How is Hilary?”

He gets the words out without tripping on them, thank God, but there’s a huge difference between meeting someone’s parents at dinner like normal people and meeting them when their daughter is about to give birth to your children.

“Fine. It’s the waiting game, now. That concierge service you hired has already been here twice,” says Hilary’s father.

Hilary’s mother raises an eyebrow at his gameday suit. “You’re going to want to get changed, Pekka. Life is about to get messy.”

Hilary is up and pacing around when he gets into the maternity suite after hurrying out of his suit and into jeans and a t-shirt. She glares at him for a fraction of a second, then her shoulders sag in relief.

“Did you bring your catching glove?”

He holds up his bare hands. “I forgot, sorry.”

Pekka hurries to her side and starts pacing with her, one hand on the small of Hilary’s back and the other in hers in case she needs something to squeeze when the contractions hit. Now, just like her mom said, they wait.

*

The waiting sucks more now that the finish line is so close, and it doesn’t get any easier as the night wears on. Pekka manages a few hours of shitty sleep in the recliner next to Hilary’s bed, waking up sometime after dawn when a folded magazine lands on his chest and a herd of medical personnel descend on the room. He snaps to awareness immediately. 

“Hilary? How are you feeling?” He doesn’t realize he’d used Finnish until he sees the staff’s confused faces. English. Right. “How are the contractions?”

"I swear to God, Jesus, and the fucking cervical dilation fairies, Pekka, if you don't pick a language and fucking _stick to it_ -"

"Sorry." He holds up a cup of ice chips, defaulting right to Finnish. " _Haluaisitko jäämurskaa?_ "

Hilary looks like she’s going to climb out of bed and choke him with her heart rate monitor, but she nods. Pekka feeds her ice chips and breathes with her just like they practiced in class, feeling somewhat out of his own body as her contractions get closer and closer together. It won't be long now.

"Okay, Hilary, we're going to start pushing now-"

" _WE?!_ The fuck do you mean _we_?" cuts in Hilary, but her OB just smiles patiently. It's probably nowhere near the worst thing a mom-to-be has said to her recently.

From there time stops making any kind of sense. Everything goes so fast even as it seems to take forever: the noise, the staff, his own voice, Hilary's sweaty hand gripping his fingers harder and harder. In some ways it's like being in the middle of a big game, when conscious thought gets taken over by instinct and everything rolls. They're coming. The babies are coming, he's going to be a father-

"There's the head! The baby's crowning. Pekka, hold her leg, Hilary, sweetheart, I need one more big push, you're doing just perfect, almost there, here we go, keep pushing!"

For one wild moment the OB sounds like she's doing play-by-play, then suddenly there's a small red mass of limbs and skin in her hands. It's Sofi. Their daughter is here. Pekka barely gets to look at her before she's whisked aside to be checked over and Hilary re-enforces her grip on his hand.

“I’m not done yet, you bastard!”

“Okay, okay, I’m right here, not going anywhere, I love you, you can do it…”

His fingers are going to be broken by the time this is all over but Pekka doesn't let go. His heart is going a million miles an hour, everything is happening at once, so many voices and movements and then Sofi is crying and Hilary is shouting as she gives one final push before another voice joins them. A small, determined, very much alive voice, Sami, greeting the world and announcing his presence. 

Pekka’s laughing and crying, broken and so relieved as he pushes the sweaty hair back from Hilary's forehead.

"You did it, Hilary, you did so good and our little ones are here, oh my god…”

She seizes his face in her hands and kisses him so hard their teeth clack together. "Where are my-"

"Here we go," cuts in one of the nurses, and puts a towel-wrapped bundle on Hilary’s bare chest. "Here's baby girl, I'm gonna get baby boy for you too, okay hon? Two healthy, beautiful babies."

They're tiny, red, squashed, and squalling, but they're the most beautiful things Pekka's ever seen. Twenty small fingers, twenty small toes, four blue eyes that may darken as they get older...everything is where it should be. When he takes Sofi and Sami in his arms, holds them for the first time, he waits, sure he’s going to explode looking at them. No single heart can take so much alone...except there’s two. 

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal thanks to agentpantybunches and andromeda-reinvented for their friendship and beta services. You're two of the best people I know and I love both of you dearly. Thank you to savesavepeksibae for the Finnish help. Also, thank you to the pregnant folks and soon-to-be dads of Reddit for the laughter, information, inspiration, and affirmation that there's still come good in the world.


End file.
